Un Coeur Pur
by Il Fantasma dell'Opera
Summary: A young Erik is an attraction at a traveling circus. Upon circumstances, an even younger Christine stumbles upon him and a bond between them grows as do they within time. But will it shatter when a certain Vicomte comes into play? Leroux and Movie based.
1. A Single Light in Darkness

**Thanks for taking the time to read my story, I hope it pleases you.**

**DISCLAIMER- I own none of it… Except the plot of course **

The thumping sound of footsteps along the dusty path alerts me….

_They are coming._

I awaken from my daze I have kept myself in all day. Just as my eyes open and adjust the orange glow of light, there is a loud clang of wood on metal.

I do not flinch, for I have grown used to the awakening routine of my tormentor banging a stick on the bars of the cage.

Once again the sound rings off, causing the metal bars surrounding me to vibrate.

"Show time, demon, get up!" a voice calls, and shortly following it is a foot connecting with my rib cage.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, trying to bite back any sound of pain emitting from me, but a small grunt still manages to escape. Even though I cannot see him, I still sense his smile and his satisfaction as he kicks me again.

I growl in result of this and, as best as I could being as how my ankles were chained together, shuffle away from the edge of the cage so he was not within reaching distance.

The sounds of nervous voices reach my ears as well as the familiar,

"Come! Come inside and see the Devil's Child!"

I let my gaze fall to the ground, not making any eye contact with anyone; shame and humiliation overwhelming me.

With chained wrists, I try to cover my face; no one deserved to look upon such horrors, but the all too familiar sound of the cage door being open alerts me that my concealment will not last much longer.

I hunch my shoulders bracing myself for what I knew was to come.

Clammy, calloused hands deathly grip my wrists, trying to pry my arms from my face.

I try to fight him, but a weak and defeated man of twenty-one cannot hold off a strong and confidant one of forty-three for very long.

With one final tug, he has finally managed to pry my arms away, revealing my distortion to the world.

I am met with shrieks of fear, laughter and the sound of many stumbling away, as if my deformity were a plague that would corrupt them. I cannot help but snort despite myself…people really were hopeless and blind.

Finally bringing myself to do so, I look up to the jeering faces. Even though I gave up hope a long time ago, I still wished to be able to find a kind face, so that I could be filled with hope that there was at least one pure soul in this world. There is none. The orange glow of flames on torches illuminate their faces, making them all distorted in my eyes.

They looked to me as if they were the dancing flames in Hell. The flames that sheltered Satan's spawn. The Devil's Child.

I let out a roar of pain as something leather unexpectedly connects with my back, pulling some of my flesh off with it. My only answer is more screams and laughter.

I grind my teeth as the whip is laid across my back again, the sound of my flesh being torn off reaching my ears.

Trying to resist the urge to vomit as I feel my own blood spill over my back, I try to cover my face with my hands again, but I gasp as I feel the whip snap around my wrists and pull them away from my face _once again._

There are once more screams and shrieks and finally I have had enough.

With an angry growl of rage, I unexpectedly round on my tormentor and attempt to cause him as much pain as possible.

I bang my chained wrists against his face and neck, digging my fingernails into any place open skin I could reach.

Cringing as I could taste his own sweat and blood in my mouth, I still proceeded to beat him, the yelling an screams of my "audience" becoming inaudible, for I could hear, all I wished to hear, were my tormentor's screams and yells of absolute pain.

But, soon my advantage of surprise finally faded and my tormentor recovered from his shock.

With an unearthly yell of absolute pure loathing, he manages to throw me off, sending me staggering backwards, slipping on my own blood on the floor and bounded ankles along the way, into the opposite cage wall.

There are gasps and shrieks as people at that end outside the cage jump away from me, but I pay them no heed.

I tasted dirt and blood and the dust from the "disturbance" blinded me. I could only hear.

Barely having any time to recover, I felt the whip upon me once again, but the strikes were harder and more brutal than ever before. That was the moment I understood:

He was meaning to kill me.

Soon, my tormentor's foot joined in the strikes, kicking my face and causing my head to hit against the metal bars behind me, the sound of fast approaching death ringing in my ears.

I could sense people leaving, running far away from this gruesome display, I wouldn't blame them and I deeply wanted to join them.

There were still some people there however, but their screaming, cursing, yelling, and laughter grew fainter.

Then a new voice seemed to pierce through the mass of others. A voice that I would never forget. A voice that was so pure, so sweet…A voice that reminded me very much of an angel

"_Stop!"_

It might have been that that command had never been heard before, or perhaps the sound of something so innocent sounding so fierce, but almost as soon as that one word was mustered, the blows from my tormentor ceased.

"_Please, stop,"_ the voice cried again, "_You're hurting him!"_

I couldn't help but snort at how naïve that sounded.

_Of course, my dear, what do you think he is intending to do…? _

Immediately, I feel guilt consume me. Here someone was finally trying to cease this act of injustice and all I could do was snort at them.

_Forgive me._

I was startled to hear the voice of my tormentor, his voice trickling with bitter honey.

"Why, I do believe I am…how **silly **of me," I growled at his sarcasm, but he ignored it and kept speaking, "Mademoiselle, it is my duty to teach this _repulsive _demon his place, but if it causes you discomfort, then perhaps you should leave."

The angel's voice replied, "_No! If I do, you will only continue hurting him!"_

The crowd around my tormentor and me were muttering amongst themselves, whether they were agreeing with my savior or just impatiently waiting for the "show" to continue, I did not know, nor did I care.

I tried to pick myself up and attack my tormentor while he was unaware, but I found I was too weak to do so, and I emitted a sigh of defeat.

Suddenly there was a chime somewhere, a clock perhaps; I listened intently as it chimed nine times and my sigh of defeat turned to relief.

9:00pm………..End of Show

I was safe, I had survived another day.

I heard my tormentor give his own sigh.

"The show is over! Now get out of here, or perhaps the Devil's Child will plague you and your children!"

The crowd did not need telling twice, they quickly departed, murmuring excitedly. My vision slowly began to come back and I was able to make out shapes meshing and melding together as they left my tent.

The sound of boots thudding against the dirt alerted me that my tormentor was about to leave. I was taken off guard when I felt one of his boots connect with my face, causing my nose to burst and blood to come spewing out of both nostrils.

Gasping in pain, I swung my hands up to my face, trying to stop the blood flow. In doing this, it left my stomach an easy target and I only just realized this when I felt a blow right in my abdomen.

As I doubled over in pain, on my knees and grinding my teeth, I heard his chuckling and his wicked voice sneering to me,

"Mark my words, demon, you would be burning in the pits of Hell right now had it not been for that little wench, I will make sure that is where you will be one of these days…"

With that, he left me to wallow in my own kind of Hell, echoing behind him as he limped away, _"one of these days…"_

When I was completely sure I was alone, I turned over and vomited.

My tears and blood mingling together with the waste I had thrown up, creating my own poison of despair.

I sighed and tried to shuffle back into the far corner in the shadows, but I could barely move so instead, I just tried to adjust my nose into place. I clenched my teeth as it went back with a crack. I then tried to go back into my corner once again, this time being able to gradually move.

"_Wait…"_

My heart skipped a beat at the soft command and I found myself obeying without even being able to control myself.

Slowly, I turned my gaze to the left, able to make out a small and slender shape just a few inches away from me; I could reach out and touch the shape through the bars if I had wanted to.

As my vision came into better focus, I was able to tell it was a little girl who was looking down at me intently.

On instinct, I quickly reached up to cover my face, trying to hide my distortion from her innocent eyes.

I gasped aloud when I felt her tiny, soft hand on my bare shoulder. I ducked my head in humiliation to be seen and touched in this kind of state.

My skin tingled beneath her hand as she gently guided my arm away from my face, and unable to control myself once again, I obeyed the gentle pressure.

_How could she do that without screaming as all the others do?_

As soon as I was exposed, I quickly closed my eyes not wanting to see her expression as she looked upon my broken and bloody face, though I am sure she had already seen it.

My eyes shot open, however, when I felt that same precious little hand come to rest on the ragged and destroyed mess on the right side of my face. The feeling was so new, so pure to me, I couldn't help but slightly lean into the touch.

The moment I realized what I was doing, I stopped, but her hand did not leave my face. As much as I hated for something so pure to touch something so…_disgusting,_ I still couldn't help but notice how…_nice_… it felt.

Hesitantly, I finally looked up into her eyes and I immediately found myself falling into their bottomless depths. They were a soft, gentle blue…like the sky after a tender rain fall.

And her chocolate hair, cascaded around her little head in fair ringlets…so lovely. The sound of her voice brought me back down to earth,

"_Does it hurt…?"_

She asked me, her hand gently pressing my cheek, so that I would know what she was asking about.

Ah, my distortion, she wanted to know if my distortion hurt me…Bless her….

I looked deeply into her eyes again and gave a small, cautious smile,

"Sometimes," I replied hoarsely, thinking about the shrieks of fear from those who laid eyes on it. That was what hurt more than the distortion itself.

The girl seemed to sense this and before I could stop her, I felt her hand leave my cheek and rip the hem of her skirt, creating a sort of handkerchief.

"_What about this side?" _she asked me as she started to wipe the drying blood from the left side of my face.

Suddenly I saw the expression on her sweet and beautiful face change into a small smile and her cheeks flush a little as she continued cleaning the blood away.

"_Handsome…"_ She whispered, her blush deepening.

With just that single word spoken to me, I felt tears leak out of both of my eyes, streaming down my cheeks and onto the dirt at my knees.

I felt that same hand wipe away my tears, while cooing softly to me.

"H-how can you do this?" I sobbed quietly, marveling at how her eyes held no fear as she gazed upon me.

"_Pardon?" _she asked me, confusion gracing her features.

"How can you look at me…look at **this**," I emphasized by pointing a finger to my face, "And not cringe in fear as everyone else does?"

The little girl looked at me a long time, her brow furrowed in thought.

Finally she spoke, her voice so sweet, so innocent; I could listen to it all day.

"_I don't know…" _she answered truthfully, "_Before my mummy died, she told me it doesn't matter what's on the outside, it's what is inside, she also told me that all God's creatures are beautiful in their own way…"_

I almost snorted at her reference towards the Lord, but I did not interrupt, I continued listening and when she had finished, I felt tears come to my eyes again.

She truly was an angel, but was she my angel? Was she my Guardian Angel?

"_My name is Christine," _she said suddenly _"Christine Daa__é__."_

_Christine, what a lovely name._

I was about to tell her my name was Erik, but decided against it, I didn't deserve to share my name with an angel.

"Hello Christine Daaé, it is a pleasure to meet you," I said, taking her hand from my cheek and gently kissing her knuckles.

I heard her giggle and I couldn't help but smile slightly.

"_The pleasure is all mine, Monsieur,"_ Christine replied, curtsying gracefully.

At this, I found myself laughing…I had not laughed in so long, it felt so new.

My laughing suddenly turned into a fit of coughing and I turned away so that I would not disgust her anymore than I probably already had.

When I turned back to her, I heard her fiddling with something around her shoulder.

Before I could blink again, she had thrust something through the bars and into my hands. As my sight focused on it, I realized it was a hip flask.

"_You must be dying of thirst, you poor thing… drink," _Christine whispered almost frantically.

I nodded and eagerly opened the flask, and allowed some of the water to flow into my dry and cracked mouth. After swishing the liquid around, I turned away from the little girl and emptied onto the dirt, rinsing the acid taste of blood and vomit from my mouth.

With that task done, I then began to drink. I drank quickly almost frantically, eager to fulfill my thirst.

Once the flask was empty, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before slowly giving the flask back to Christine, avoiding her gaze for I was once again ashamed to have displayed such grotesque manners in front of her young eyes.

The girl had to be not a day older than seven. She was so young…and yet so wise.

"Thank you…." I whisper to the ground.

Finally I brought myself to look to her. Christine smiled and reached through the bars, taking my calloused hand into her smooth and soft one. I hesitantly returned the smile, gently squeezing her hand.

I was about to ask her why someone as young and innocent as her was here in a place such as this, but our moment was ruined by a gruff and gravely voice.

"I will check to see if the Wretch is still alive…If not get the rubble pile ready..."

Christine gasped, fear in her eyes. Fear for me? Yes! It was fear for me…no one had ever been scared for my safety before….

I squeeze her hand once again.

"Don't worry about me, Christine…I will be fine," I told her reassuringly, but I wasn't entirely sure myself, "You better go…"

Christine nodded and let go of my hand.

"_I'll come back tomorrow…I promise…"_ She whispered before disappearing into the darkness and out of sight.

A breeze from the rear of the tent told me she had gone out the back way of the tent and I sighed with relief.

I then slinked back into the safety of my own darkness, just as the figure of my tormentor emerged.

Closing my eyes, I pretended to be asleep. I could sense his tall body towering over mine as I lay in my little gathering of hay.

My tormentor snorted and I felt him spit at my feet, "You were lucky today, demon…" he whispered before turning around and leaving me alone.

I opened my eyes and stared up at the moon through an opening at the top if the tent, replaying what had recently happened in my mind.

Christine had shed some light into what seemed to be my eternal darkness and I now had something to live for…something to look forward to.

I rolled over on my other side and smiled softly, finally realizing that there was some kindness in this world after all….

**A/N The reasons as to why Erik is living in such conditions will be revealed later as the story progresses, I honestly have no idea how long it shall be.**


	2. Christine's Second Visit

**Here is the second chapter! I have no idea where is story is going to go, but I hope you all enjoy it! There is actually a song reference in here, its put kind of obviously, so it shouldn't be too hard to find. **

**Happy reading!**

"Here," a rough voice grunted as he harshly thrust a loaf of bread through the bars and into my hands.

Without even looking at me, he left my tent, leaving me alone once again.

I look down at my bread and carefully take a piece off with my dirt incased fingers, never feeling lower as I took my first bite. Though it was pleasant to fill my empty stomach, the bread was hard and it cut at my already raw mouth, causing me to taste more of my own blood than any food I was given.

Sighing, I place my attentions on the entrance of the tent…_Would she return? Was Christine going to stay by her word? Or has she just given me false hope out of her useless pity…?_

My thoughts were disrupted as I heard footsteps heading my way. Immediately, my expression hardened…_my tormentor was early._

As I heard the steps getting closer, I was suddenly filled with hope…if not my tormentor…could it be _her_…?

The figure entered my tent. It wasn't my tormentor and it wasn't Christine…It was another man, a little younger than my tormentor, but he still reeked of sweat and blood.

Ah, he was my tormentor's assistant.

"You gave Master Buquet quite the fight back yesterday," he sneered at me through the metal bars.

I growled as he tried to poke me with a stick as if I were some lazy animal at a zoo, too defeated to move.

"_Va te faire foutre, Piangi_," I mutter at him through my teeth, glaring up at him.

He merely laughed and proceeded to poke me again,

"You are the one who needs to be stuffed, my friend," he said, jabbing at my ribs.

Growling yet again, I move away from his reach, "Why have you come here, besides tormenting me?" I ask him as Piangi tries to jab me through the bars again. He gives up and throws the stick back to the ground.

"To tell that there will be an Open Tent here instead of a normal show…Master Buquet has a few 'problems' he needs to take care of…" he answered.

Despite myself, I smirk, knowing that I had caused him enough pain to disable him from beating me for a few days.

There were still going to be people that would come in and shun me, but I had long gotten used to that.

Spitting at my feet, Piangi left me, his overly large body swaying slightly as he exited the tent.

Slowly, I fell back into my daze, waiting for the return of my angel if she had not already forgotten me...

_**Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine**_

"Where are you going, _ma petite_?"

I stop at the threshold of the doorway and close my eyes for a minute in thought. I didn't want to lie to my Papa, but if I told him the truth, he wouldn't let me go see that unfortunate man in the cage again.

I hadn't really gone to that horrible fair anyway; I was only just coming back from my mother's gravesite when the sounds of nearby screams of pain grabbed my curiosity and made me want to see what was going on.

For once I was glad for my curiosity, even though Papa said it could kill the cat, I had _saved_ a cat…well he wasn't really a cat, but oh well.

Finally, I come up with an answer that is not exactly a lie, but not exactly true.

"The same place as yesterday," I say, but I do not turn around, for if I did, Papa could easily tell I was not telling the whole truth by the look in my eyes.

I heard my father sigh when I said this.

"Be back by ten, and tell her I said hi," he says softly.

With my back still facing him, I nod, blinking back tears.

My Maman died of something my Papa calls pneumonia, she is now one of God's angels and I pray for her every night.

"I will," I choke out before walking out through the door and onto the cobblestone streets.

Some may think that it's odd for a father to let his seven year old daughter out alone at night, but my Papa knows that I am as familiar with the streets I walk upon and the people I see as I am with the back of my small hand.

He trusts me and I trust him, but that could easily dissolve if he realized I was partially lying to him.

On the way, I made sure my hip flask was full of water and I bought a soft, fresh loaf of bread from Madame Giry's Bakery, but because I am a favorite patron of hers, she gave it to me free of charge.

I also took care of greeting her daughter and my friend, Meg on my way out.

Soon I was back on the streets, walking merrily about, holding the wrapped bread close to my chest in a protective manner.

I wave to a few of my friends as I pass, heading towards the cemetery, deciding I should at least do that first.

As I step onto the familiar dirt path, I stop and pluck a wild flower from the ground, hoping to honor my Maman's memory with this simple fragile beauty.

Slowly I make my way into the cemetery gates, looking around at the peaceful tranquility of this place. Soft, lush grass lay across this bliss of land while sprinkles of daises shot up from the ground.

I closed my eyes as a gust of wind gently caressed my cheek, I can almost feel my Maman's actually being in this place and it made me smile.

On silent feet, I walk towards the marble tombstone that boar my family's last name on it.

**DAA****É**

It filled my heart with coldness to see that name on there in such bold letters, truly announcing my mother's death.

I sigh and place the wild flower delicately next to the monument, gently stroking the petals, before dropping to my knees, setting the bread parcel down, and folding my hands in the praying gesture.

"_Dear God,"_ I start, closing my eyes, "_How is my mummy doing up there, can she really see me? Can you really hear me? I just have a few things to ask of You, God, please take good care of my Maman until my Papa and I come up there too…then we can all take care of each other. Also, God, there is a man who is not being treated right, could You please watch over him and let him know he's not alone, dear Lord? That's all I ask of You. Amen."_

When I open my eyes, I discover that dusk is slowly melting across the sky. The beautiful mixture of orange and pink reminded me of a painting on a canvas and that made me smile. Maman always loved to paint, maybe that's what she was doing up there…painting the skies for all to admire.

I clapped my hands together and laughed excitedly at the thought, "You are doing an amazing job, Maman!" I exclaim, jumping up and down.

With new found happiness, I quickly pick up the wrapped bread and make my way out of the cemetery, heading for the fair.

The sight that greets me shocks and frightens me. There were so many people that smelled horrible and looked it as well. Their teeth looked as if they would fall out any second…bypassing yellow to a goldish-brown with dark holes eating away. Some of them the leathery skin on their faces clung to their skulls in such a manner it seemed that one would ask what was the point of even wearing skin? It was quite unnattractive with it oily yellow tint.

Uh! and the horrible tricks that they did! Like shoving knives down one's throat, juggling axes, or spitting fire...It was horrible!

I drop my gaze to the ground; unable to look at such a disgusting sight, why was that one man any different to me?

I can't even describe why his ugly face did not scare me, sure it was not at all nice to look at, but he seemed like a really sweet person who did not deserve the way he was being treated at all.

The familiar red and gold tent baring the sign 'THE DEVIL'S CHILD' on the very front soon came upon my gaze.

As I got closer to the tent, I could hear shrieks and gasps of fear.

Clenching my teeth in anger, I quickly run around the tent, holding the bread parcel close to me, and poke my head in through the back way and what I saw almost immediately brought tears to start leaking down my cheeks.

There sat that man, trying desperately to cover his face with his hands while people started throwing things at him. I tried to yell, to get them to stop, but at that moment, his hands finally came down from his face and his eyes locked with mine.

Oh the pain I saw there!

Those enchanting, golden eyes held the look of a thousand wilting roses, but suddenly the sadness was quickly replaced with hope as his eyes remained locked on mine.

Then in the distance, I heard the chime of the clock.

Nine times.

It was over, my timing was perfect! I watched as people began to depart, some spitting at the poor creature as they left, others sneering at him, but most just left without sparing him a single glance.

I found myself clenching my teeth in anger once more, but soon everyone was gone except for the man and me.

On silent feet, I emerge through the back way where he sat, attempting to brush the dirt from his shoulders.

His features were soft as he looked at me and a genuine smile spread across his face.

"_You came back…" _he whispered, his eyes never leaving my face.

I sighed and sat down beside him on the outside of the cage, fighting back tears.

"Of course I did! I promised you I would, didn't I?" I asked happily, crossing my legs Indian style, despite the fact I was wearing a skirt, it was long enough so I didn't have anything to worry about.

"Close your eyes," I commanded to him softly, "And hold out your hand." I smiled as I remembered this game my Papa would always play with me whenever he had a surprise for me.

He looked at me a long time, as if making sure he could completely trust me before finally allowing his eyelids to drop over his eyes, hesitantly holding out a hand.

_**Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik**_

I felt a like complete a beggar. A low, scum sucking beggar.

Oh the shame that overwhelmed me as I had my hand extended towards her, not knowing what she was about to give me.

Christine's giggles calmed me a bit, but I had never felt lower than I did at that moment.

"_It's a surprise!"_ her excited little voice exclaimed as I felt something soft being gently put into my hands.

At her command, I opened my eyes and stared down at the wrapped parcel before eventually opening it.

Bread!

My little angel had brought me food! It was so much different than that stale mess that I try to consume.

I cannot accept it, I simply cannot, I do not want to appear a defenseless beggar in her eyes.

"Christine-" I begin, but I am cut off as her hand reaches through the bars and grasps both my hands that hold the bread.

"_Please, accept it, __Monsieur_, I know you don't know me that well and you have every right not to trust me, but please, you look so weak and I got this for you, take it."

Her voice was so sweet, so gentle, so _pleading _how could I refuse?

"Thank you, Christine… Thank you so much," I said, ripping off a piece of bread and placing it into my mouth. I took care to eat slowly so that I would not frighten the child away with the display of a starving pig eating.

I chewed with relish at the soft bread, not being able to look directly into Christine's eyes. But, the sound of her talking did reach my ears and I listened contentedly to her voice as she conversed with me, though I was doing more of the head nodding than anything else, it would not do to expose this child to the horrible manners of talking with your mouth full.

"_Do you travel much, __Monsieur_?" she asked me while I finished the last remaining crumbs of bread.

I nodded my head, "Yes, we stay in one place for about two weeks and then we are on the road again, however, I am not sure of how long we will stay here…" my tones turned bitter, "The _patrons_ just keep _pouring_ in, I might be here a while…"

Chuckling bitterly at myself, I finally looked Christine in the eyes, but I stopped when I see sadness fill the blue depths.

She physically seemed to shake her head before speaking again, her voice fast as if eager to change the subject,

"_Where all have you gone?"_

I admired the fact that she cared for my feelings of the situation, but I simply did not deserve to be cared for that way, but something was stopping me from protesting and sending the little girl on her way…loneliness perhaps?

"I believe anywhere in France," I reply, but of course I wouldn't know, I had never seen anything beyond the bars of this cage. I decided against telling her this part.

Her blue eyes widened with surprise, _"Wow, and I have never even been outside of Paris...except for when I was born in Sweden, but we moved here when I turned three, so I don't remember it that well…just here…"_

I chuckle at this and nod my head, "At least you have a real home…"

Once again the sadness crossed over her face and once again she tried to change the subject.

"_What is your name?"_

_**Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine**_

I felt bad for asking the question almost as soon as it left my mouth.

He seemed to tense up for a moment before dropping his gaze to the ground and muttering almost inaudibly,

"_I know naught my name…"_

Was he lying to me? Or did he truly not know his name?

Oh how awful that must be! To not know your own name…My lower lip trembled for a moment and I tried to bite back tears.

What on earth had they put this poor man through!? Had they beaten him so hard that he had forgotten his own name!?

Two tears leaked their way down each side of my cheeks and I quickly closed my eyes to keep anymore from falling, I _hated_ crying in front of people! I always felt like a big baby.

Suddenly, I felt a finger gently caress my cheek and wipe one of the tears away.

When I opened my eyes, I was met with the sight of his wide amber eyes staring at my cheek. Why was he looking at me like that?

I reached up to my cheek with my own hand and felt the spot that he touched.

_Dirt._

His finger was once again on my cheek trying to wipe away the dirt he had caused, but the result of this was more dirt on my face.

Despite the situation, I couldn't help, but start giggling.

Giggling at the look of shock on his face, giggling just to lighten the situation, or simply giggling because I had had too much sugar earlier, I didn't know, but soon he joined in with the laughter and soon we were both laughing together!

What a nice laugh he had, it sounded so free and joyous!

Our laughs mingled together, creating one sound of joy and yet we had no idea what we were laughing about!

I found myself unhooking the hip flask and pouring a bit of water onto my hands and splashing at him through the bars playfully.

If he was going to make me dirty, then I deserved to make him clean….right?

He chuckled softly and shook the wetness from his ebony bangs.

When we both had settled, I handed him the flask and he thanked me before drinking from it gratefully.

I watched as he finished and lowered the flask handing it back to me, smiling a true, genuine smile…A smile from him I had only seen once before, I found I liked his smile without thinking, I was about to tell him this.

"I-"

"What's going on in there, you dirty wretch!?" a harsh voice suddenly called.

In unison, both our heads snapped in the direction of the tent entrance.

"_You better go…" _he whispered to me.

I nodded and slowly started backing up, unable to tear my gaze from him.

"Goodbye, see you tomorrow, Monsieur," I say, my eyes still never leaving him.

The man seemed to be thinking something over, his brow scrunched in thought. As if debating something important…

"_Erik…"_ he said almost inaudibly.

"What?" I ask.

"_I said my name is Erik…"_

Finally, I turn around, about to take my leave through the back way.

"Erik…" I echo softly…such an unusual name…it suited him.

"Goodbye, Erik."

"_Farewell, Christine..."_

Sparing one last glance, I look behind me and the last thing I see are those amber eyes filled with hope before I step out into the silent night air.

**And there you have it! A new chapter….Ironic that Buquet is the tormentor in this story when Erik actually lassoed him in the stage and movie version…It was different in the book though…it was his torture chamber that made Buquet want to kill himself…or something like that…**

**-Sighs- I really need to read the book again….**

**Anyway, I won't be able to update for a couple of days; I am doing an all night event to support funds for those with cancer. It is from 6 am to 6 am…geeze… so until next update!**

**-Il Fantasma**


	3. Who is the Angel?

"_Do you like music?" _

I looked up at this sudden question Erik had asked me.

For three long weeks I had been to visit him.

For three long weeks I had brought him food, water, and company

For three long weeks, he and I gradually became rather good friends.

Music…

Music was what brought my father's violin to life. Music was what relieved some of my sorrow after my Maman's death. Music was how I expressed my joy, anger, and sadness. Music was my life.

"Yes, I love music…very much, I also love to sing," I answer, noticing how Erik's eyes seemed to twinkle at this.

He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, seeming to decide on something. His eyes seeming to gently stroke my soul.

"_Could you perhaps sing something for me?"_ he asked, reaching his hand through the bars and gently taking my own.

I thought for a moment. My voice really wasn't that good, well in my opinion, and what song could I sing for him?

"What would you like me to sing?" I asked, unsure of what he really wanted to hear. Knowing Erik, he had traveled so much he must be familiar with any type of music out there.

Erik squeezed my hand.

"_I do not care; sing whatever you are comfortable with…"_

Nodding my head, I tried to think of a song that I knew and a song that didn't sound like a shrieking mouse whenever I hit the high notes.

Suddenly, the song just hit me. The song my mother taught me!

I started singing softly at first, a little cautiously.

"_Think of me  
think of me fondly,  
when we've said goodbye.  
Remember me _

_Once in a while -  
please promise me  
you'll try…"_

I spared a glance over at Erik, who nodded his head, gesturing for me to keep going.

"_When you find_

_that, once again,_

_you long_

_to take your heart back  
and be free -  
if you  
ever find  
a moment,  
spare a thought  
for me…"_

I dared not to go any further, for my small voice was not trained enough to handle such vibratos, I was no opera singer.

Finally, I looked at Erik again and was surprised at what I saw.

_**Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik-**_

From the moment the sound of her voice reached my ears, I could not help but stare, mesmerized at her young voice. It was the most pure, clear, and innocent sound I had ever heard. It reminded me of the tinkling bells I heard at times while on the road.

She could do so much with that voice! But, she had to sing out more…as well as work on her posture, yet as she finished, I couldn't help but feel small tears gather at the corners of my eyes. Oh the emotion she captivated in that song!

Unknowingly, I let two of the tears spill down my cheeks.

Christine made to wipe them away, but I held her hand and kept her from doing so.

"Remember last time…" I reminded her with a smirk, letting go of her hands.

She smiled and giggled softly.

"Christine, I can't even begin to tell you how beautiful that was; you have an amazing voice for someone of your age."

Christine blushed and ducked her head, muttering her thanks.

"You could do so much with it," I went on, not seeming to be able to praise her voice enough.

Christine, who was bypassing crimson by now, changed the subject.

"_And what all do you know of music, Erik?"_ she asked.

I pondered her question for a moment; there was so much to tell! When I had been abandoned by my _dear _mother, I had lived alone on the streets, allowing music to embrace me, for it was the only thing that would not turn away or shun me. It was something I could express myself with…it was something I could produce that was…_beautiful_.

As I grew, so did my passion for it until one day, when I was fifteen, I was foolish enough to come out into the open again, thinking that if people could not accept my face then, perhaps with my music, they could change their outlooks…

Oh what a fool I was!

Because of me and my need for respect, I was brought here. Beaten upside the head when I was unaware, thus knocking me out.

I had woken up in this cage and have known nothing of the outside world since.

Of course I could not tell the girl all of this; it was too much for one at her age to swallow.

"I know more about music than you would think…" I answer, my eyes reading hers.

She was giving me a strange look, one I could not particularly understand.

"_Erik could you- I mean…could you possible help me with my singing…?"_

At this, my jaw almost dropped…and it took all of my self control to keep it from doing so.

I had barely known this girl for over three weeks and after my very vague answer on music…she wanted me to help shape her voice…?

"_Y-you don't have to, I just though that since you said I could do so much with my voice and you said you knew a lot about music, you might be able to help me-"_

Christine broke off and looked to the ground.

With a groan, I moved from my sitting position and got on to my knees, and, making sure my hands were cleaner this time, gently took her chin into my hand and lifted her gaze to me.

"It would be an honor, Christine Daaé," I whispered to her softly.

I dropped my hands and she smiled at me, complete joy in her eyes.

We would have to be careful.

My tormentor could not hear what was going on, or he would take my little angel away from me without hesitation.

I could not bare that.

Also, and I avoided thinking about it as much as possible, I had no idea how much longer I was to stay here. There were less patrons showing up, which meant we would be back on the road soon, not to return here until next year, where all of Paris could get re-acquainted to my face.

I snorted at the thought.

"_Erik…?"_

Upon hearing my name, I looked up to meet her blue gaze. She was regarding me with a strange look in her eyes, not understanding my behavior.

"I am sorry, I have just come to a realization that I might be leaving soon…There are less people showing up, which will mean the 'circus' will be on the road soon, me being part of it…." I answered, my heart feeling tight in my chest just thinking about leaving.

Christine gasped and grabbed on to the bars that separated her from me, tears quickly filling her eyes again.

"_No! Erik you can't leave! You can't! I don't want them to hurt you anymore!"_ she cried, reaching out to me through the bars.

Sighing, I took her soft hand in my own, rough and calloused one again, stroking the top of her hand with my thumb, for some reason finding it hard to believe that someone was actually going to miss me.

"I'll be back; I promise…it will only be good-bye for a little while…"

Christine did not look convinced, but she nodded, her young mind trying to understand, nonetheless. Trying to be strong for me.

"_Good-bye for a little while…"_ she repeated, the tears in her eyes dissolving. Her expression was now blank, as if she had gone somewhere else faraway from the Devil's Child's tent.

From lack of blinking, I could tell she had gone somewhere else in the eyes.

To free her from the prison of her mind, I started softly singing, the same tune from earlier that she had sung.

"_Think of me  
think of me fondly,  
when we've said goodbye…"_

Immediately, Christine's attention was back on me, her smoldering blue depths burrowing deep within my own eyes, reaching out and touching my soul with purity. She just seemed to stand there and stare at me a long time, opening her mouth every now and then, but quickly closing it….as if she did not know what to say. For once her eyes, which were like an open book, were hard to read. Christine had the most peculiar expression on her face.

"_Erik…."_ She began, her eyes roaming over my face, which almost instantly made me feel self-conscious. I was about to attempt to cover my hideousness, when I remembered that Christine would not let me do that. She saw past the distortion…like none ever had before. Christine did not see the monster or demon…what she saw was merely a man-

"_Mon Ange de la Musique!" _she suddenly cried, ecstatic now.

Or that too…Her Angel of Music….

Wait...

Suddenly I gave a start. She just called me her Angel of Music? I had to hold in my bitter laughter. I may know all there is to know about music…but I am probably the furthest thing away from 'Angel'…

Was God just playing a cruel trick on me again? Was I just fooling myself? Christine is the angel…not I…

I found myself staring at her in confusion…unable to comprehend what went on in that child's mind.

_**Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine- Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-**_

I don't know why I said it. I don't know what odd force caused me to even speak it out loud, but the result of this was Erik's bemused expression and my embarrassment.

Back before my Maman's death, my Papa and she would speak of stories and legends of the Angel of Music.

How he would watch over us all and bless those worthy with music.

Papa had always said I would be visited by the Angel; I never doubted him.

Well, although he was kind, Erik was not an Angel. He certainly had the voice of an Angel. The most beautiful angel in the Heavens. Irony never tasted so bitter.

But, something was telling me….was his deformity possibly an illusion? Could this be the Angel of Music in disguise, looking to see if I am worthy to be blessed by his blissful music?

Maybe _that's_ why he asked me to sing for him.

Maybe _that's_ why he accepted to shape my voice.

Maybe _that's_ how the Angel is granting me his glory.

I sighed happily in complete thought until I heard a distant voice jostle me from my thoughts,

"_Christine…"_

Shaking my head, I met his piercing, onyx stare.

"It's nothing," I answered, "Well, with what little time we have, are you going to help shape my voice or not?"

Trying to lighten the situation, I tried to make my voice sound playful, but there was still a slight tremble. Erik seemed to sense this, but he said nothing, just continuing to mesmerize me with his eyes. He did that for a long time; observing me as if I were some complex oil design painted on canvas and he was trying to decipher the pattern. A pattern that was impossible to figure out, but he obviously some how would figure out a way.

It made me feel uncomfortable; I wanted him...to stop.

I shifted uncomfortably and it seemed that he realized he was making me uneasy. He just gave me an apologetic look, but still did not say anything. He merely nodded his head.

Oh Erik, what goes on in that head of yours?

_**Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik-**_

Angel of Music.

She thought of me as her Angel of Music.

How?

Why me?

Why me when _she_ is the angel?

All of these questions I was dying to figure out, but I had naught the courage to ask the girl. Instead, I merely tried to study her. Trying to figure out what hidden thoughts and secrets were behind those cornflower blue eyes.

It was almost impossible.

Seeing what went on inside her mind was like holding up a scroll in the mirror and trying to read it. The words all rearranged.

Some parts were understandable, but others didn't make sense at all.

It was when I sensed a stir of movement from her that I was torn away from my thoughts and realized I had caused her discomfort.

_Forgive me._

I nodded my head in agreement to give her a lesson, the haze of my own thoughts still lingering.

It was indubitably apparent that I had caused the girl to be more cautious on what she said to me.

I couldn't keep messing up like this.

Thus, our first attempt at a lesson would begin.

There was a voice in the back of my mind that was telling me this might end badly.

I ignored it and decided to try and listen to my heart for once…a heart I just recently discovered I had.


	4. Let it Be

**Well this would be the fourth chapter of Christine and Erik's tale. Now as you read this, please keep in mind that there will be no romance between these two until later chapters when they are older. Oh and so that there is no more confusion since people didn't seem to catch when I stated Erik's age, he is twenty-one and Christine is seven. About the same age gap between them as there is in the movie. At least that's how I hoped how big the gap was. Anyway, don't despair everyone, Raoul will be making an appearance soon (ignore my sarcasm), and that will probably pick up more speed on the story's plot. Well, I, personally really like this chapter, I hope you all like it too. Well that's enough rambling.**

**On with ****Un Coeur Pur**** aka A Pure Heart!**

"_The first thing you want to do is stand up straighter…"_

Nodding my head, I tried to do exactly what Erik asked me to do without hesitation.

Erik was almost a completely different person at the moment. The shy and sweet Erik that I had known for the past three week was replaced by an alert and controlling Erik who expected things to be done correctly. I will admit, it did intimidate me a little bit…but I knew that he was the real thing. He would be what would change my voice into something even I myself wouldn't recognize.

I didn't know how…but I just knew it.

"_Now, sing the second part of the stanza again."_

"Yes, Erik," I obeyed, doing best to stand up straight so that I would breath correctly.

"When you find

that once again you long

to take your heart-"

"_No…stop…"_

I did immediately wondering what I had done wrong, the way he cut me off hurt me a little, but I did not let the bother me, clearly there was an error in what I was doing and Erik was going to fix it.

"_When you start singing higher, you need to open your voice up more and not keep it all clenched inside your throat…let it flow out. Sing through your stomach, not your throat…"_

Nodding my head, I opened my mouth to sing, hoping I was doing it right.

"When you find

that once again you long

to take your heart back

and be-"

"_Christine…"_

He stopped me a second time, startling me by touching my hand. I had not realized that my hands had clenched into fists while I started singing.

"_You do not need to be nervous, my dear. It will only make your voice sound jumpy and weak. Keep your arms like this-"_

Erik reached his other hand out through the blasted cage and took my own hand with both of his, un-prying them from the fists they had formed. He then took my arms and guided them towards my lower abdomen and folded my hands neatly there, making sure my elbows were bent slightly.

"_Now sing."_

Once again, I tried, but once again Erik stopped me.

"_Close your eyes…" _he whispered to me, _"Take a step closer."_

I did so, my heart beat suddenly picking up speed, yet I still trusted Erik…it felt so strange, but so right.

Suddenly I felt his fingers gently caress my neck, cupping his entire hand around it (if he had wanted to, he could have killed me right then and there), and tilting my head upward, stretching my neck slightly.

My breath caught in my throat…what was he doing?

Now his hands were on my shoulders pushing them down, but taking care so that they would not go too low into a slouching position. I felt his hand travel down my arm, sliding over the point of my bent elbow and continuing down until he reached my hand. With heartbreaking tenderness, he guided my arm outwards towards him, leaving more room for my stomach to breath.

"_Now, Ange, sing."_

Through the nervous state I was in, I did not fail to notice that he had called me 'Angel' and that he had not let go of my hand. This exhilarated me for some reason to be thought of an angel by him and I eagerly opened my mouth to begin singing.

"When you find  
that, once again, you long  
to take your heart back  
and be free -  
if you  
ever find  
a moment,  
spare a thought  
for me…"

I opened my eyes and looked over at Erik, hoping I had pleased him. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was in complete bliss.

"Erik?"

"_Don't stop!" _he exclaimed suddenly, squeezing my hand, his eyes shooting open.

Erik's strange behavior, took me off guard and I gasped, unconsciously taking a step back, my hand slipping out of his.

He looked truly wounded and I quickly stepped back forward and slipped my hand back into his again.

"All better…" I tried to say, attempting to lighten the situation. So many people must have pulled away from him like that…and now I was one of them.

"_I'm sorry, Christine, I got carried away…I just haven't heard something that beautiful in a long time," _Erik explained, _"That was truly amazing…always keep in mind to sing like that…"_

I could feel my nose tingling, threatening to let tears fall, but I refused, I did not enjoy crying in front of people, especially people like Erik who had seen enough tears in their life.

"Th-thank you, Erik!" I exclaim, ecstatic now.

He merely smiled and squeezed my hand.

For one moment, there was no cage…no evil abuser…no distortion. For one moment, the world just seemed to dissolve and it was only Erik and me, and those haunting golden eyes of his.

"You better be asleep in there!" a voice suddenly sounded off, a voice that sounded like two stones being ground together. The voice of Buquet the Tormentor.

It was then that our little haven of peace was shattered and everything came back, the cage was there again…the only barrier that kept me from jumping in there and holding Erik close and telling him it was going to be alright.

Sighing, I reluctantly pulled my hand away, Erik dropping his arms limply like a defeated rag doll.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" I asked…I needed to know.

Erik sighed and said, _"I do not know…__**GO**__."_

And I did so, rushing out towards the back way again, sparing one last glance over at Erik who was already settling down to look like he was asleep.

I let out a quick breath of relief and started on my way home.

**Buquet-Buquet-Buquet-Buquet-Buquet-Buquet-Buquet-Buquet- Buquet- Buquet-Buquet-Buquet-Buquet-Buquet- **

_Get over yourself, Joseph, you're paranoid_

That's what everyone would say…

_You wouldn't understand, Joseph._

_You wouldn't get it…_

_Are you really__** that**__ oblivious?_

I'm not as stupid as a lot of people take me for…

For the past few bloody weeks, I could have sworn I heard something going on in that bastard's tent…Always laughing, whispers, or quiet sobbing.

There was a while when I thought I was just hearing things.

Until tonight…when I heard quiet singing. At first I had thought it was merely a mother singing her child to bed, but then I realized it was coming from the wretch's tent.

What the hell was going on in there?

At first I tried to ignore it, thinking perhaps I was hearing things again…maybe the bastard was playing tricks on me.

I came to realize that it was a song that seemed to be starting over. The voice that sang it was soft and gentle…like the voice in a long forgotten lullaby.

It was a girl singing. She had a nice voice.

Wait.

Since when did we have girls with eerily beautiful voices singing in our tents?

Muttering curses under my breath, I stood from my moth eaten armchair and exited my sleeping tent, heading towards the wretch.

"You better be asleep in there!" I yell angrily, knowing that he wasn't.

When I opened the curtain of the tent, I found Satan's spawn, and no one else, curled up like a cat, his arms positioned in front of his chest in a protective way. He had learned to sleep that way long ago, because of me threatening to stab him while he was asleep.

Ahh, but he wasn't asleep was he?

No.

I could see those eyelashes flickering ever so slightly from time to time.

Fucking liar.

Suddenly something rare happened…an idea formed in my head. I would leave the bastard be tonight…make him think that I don't know what's going on…and then I will make my move so suddenly that he and his little siren wouldn't even know what hit them…

As I said, I'm not as stupid as a lot of people take me for…

_**Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine- Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-**_

I awoke that morning from the sound of violent coughing coming from the other room.

Immediately I was up and down the hall, looking to see what was wrong.

There was my Papa, in his study…A fist clenched over his mouth as he struggled for breath. Coughing and coughing until his ragged voice seemed to just run dry of sound.

"PAPA!"

His vision shot over to me, his hand shooting away from his mouth.

"Get…. Antoinette…" he rasped, before covering his mouth again and coughing away.

I was off and out the door so quickly, I barely had time to register that there was something crimson in his hand.

My father had been having those coughing fits for a while, I had been concerned about him, but I didn't really pay it much heed, I guess it was because I always thought that he would be better.

In no time at all, I found myself directly in front of the Girys' door, they lived close by, banging rapidly at it.

Meg was the first to answer it, her eyes lit up at the sight of me and her face immediately broke out into a wide front-teeth-missing grin.

"Christine! Hi! I-"

"Where is your Maman?" I asked quickly, cutting her off.

"Christine, what-"

"WHERE IS SHE?" by now I was having a panic attack and I nearly collapsed on their porch.

"What, what? Christine I'm right here…what is it?" Madame Giry's soft, yet urgent voice was suddenly filling my ears and I felt her hand at my chin, jerking my face up to meet her eyes. My own eyes were filling with tears…I didn't know why.

Finally, I manage to choke out, "P-Papa!"

Madame Giry nodded understandingly, this had happened before many times prior, and was off, taking my hand and pulling me along with her, Meg at our heels. She looked so confused and lost…I felt bad for her.

Soon we found ourselves barging our way through the doorway of my house, rushing through the foyer, down the hall and into my Papa's study where we were hoping to find him. What I saw sitting in my Papa's chair made me feel faint.

What was sitting in his chair was a man whose expression bore a look of absolute pain. His face, as well as the rest of the skin on his body, was chalk white and clammy, drenched in sweat. Flowing steadily from his agape mouth was a thick, dark liquid that I recognized to be blood. His gray eyes were dull and seemed to be looking at nothing as his entire chest was stiff with pain. Suddenly, my Papa made a gurgling noise and he leaned over his chair and vomited all over the floor. It was a color I did not recognize, but it was tinged with his blood. What was wrong with Papa?

Unable to stand it anymore, I shut my eyes and covered my face with my hands, running from the room as fast as I could, ignoring Madame Giry's screeches for me to return.

I needed to think…I…needed to pray.

With my eyes still shut, I ran blindly, sobbing heavily, not sure where I was going.

I prayed while I ran.

"_God! O Merciful Lord! It is too soon! My mother has already departed from here; please don't take my father too! Call me selfish, but I really want…no, I need him beside me! Give him strength…Give me strength! Please, God! Amen"_

I knew where I was before I opened my eyes.

The familiar scent of smoke, sweat, and blood filled my nostrils unpleasantly.

Though it was unpleasant, it was the most welcoming for I knew who it would lead me to.

_**Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik- Erik-**_

_A starry, beautiful night sky loomed over me as I lay tranquilly in the middle of a soft grassy meadow. The wind sighs and whispers in my ear, telling me tales of curly brunette headed angels with pure voices and innocent intentions. I shut my eyes and sighed in contentment. This is freedom, I told myself over and over again, not seeming to be able to let the feeling sink in…I was free._

_Yet through this bliss, the wind suddenly carried a new sound. Quiet, frantic sobbing reached my ears and caused me to open my eyes. Someone was in pain. Where? I had to help them. I tried to stand up, but found I could not. It seemed as if my entire body was full of lead. Clenching my teeth, I found that I still could not move. I groaned in despair and listened as the sobs grew louder and more painful._

"_**ERIK!"**_

Suddenly the vision of the starry night meadow melted away as did the softness of the grass.

I was laying face up, my eyes drinking in the sight of the tent ceiling as my back itched with the coarse straw and hay rubbing against it. Hadn't that just been grass before? I was still surrounded by the cage…It was a dream. I was _not_ free…

"_Oh, Erik!"_

That was when I understood, the sobs I heard in my dream were not at all in my dreams…they were coming from a certain little angel.

Her sobs were audible, but she was not visible to me yet, I merely sat up from my sitting position, getting on my knees and craning my neck.

Foolish girl…didn't she know that she was risking so much by coming here at this time of day?

It was then that she burst through the tent and, pushing past people who were exiting, came up directly to my cage, clutching the bars and looking like she had gone completely mad. Her precious blue eyes were wide with unseen fear and pearly tears were steadily cascading down her cheeks as she sobbed continuously in what I could only imagine was sorrow and fear. Who had done this to her?

"Christine! What's the matter?" I asked as she swiveled her head from side to side, as if hoping that this was a nightmare; a nightmare she was hoping to awake from.

"Christine?"

My response was a hiccup.

"Christine…"

More hard sobbing, she needed to stop or she would choke.

"Christine."

There was still more crying and still no response. I had had enough.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, GIRL, ANSWER ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU!" I yelled, and I immediately regretted it, taking Christine completely by surprise that she stumbled back a step and, being as how she was in quite the weak state at the moment, she stumbled backwards and landed painfully on her bottom.

"Christine, I'm so sor-"

She covered her face with her hands and curled into a little ball on the dirt, soiling the white dress she was wearing that normally made her look like an angel…but with her tears and expression she looked more like a fallen angel. An angel that needed guidance.

"_E-Erik,"_ she sobbed out, _"He's sick…m-m-my Papa i-i-i-is s-sick! There was cou-coughing and bl-blood…"_ Her hands dropped from her face and she suddenly stood up from the ground. She then suddenly lunged at me through the cage.

"_S-so much…bl-blood, Erik,"_ she exclaimed, her hands falling limp at her sides as she pressed her entire weight on the cage.

The poor child! Her father was dying and on top of that I was yelling at her for simply crying about it. Why was God now being cruel to her too? Wasn't my ruined life enough for Him? Or did He decide to ruin the only happiness I have ever known?

I inwardly cursed the Lord before bringing my attentions back on the little girl who was half mad in front of me.

"Christine…I, I am so sorry. Truly, I am. A little girl like you does not deserve this," I tried to say reassuringly, but I did not add in that I thought her father was going to be alright. I had seen cases like his before, workers at this very circus had fallen ill under this disease. Why fill the child with false hope?

It was times like this when I absolutely loathed my cage. I wanted more than anything than to be on the other side, comforting her, embracing her, like any other friend would. No. All I could do was sit there and watch her cry, touching her hand every once in a while.

Now touching her hand, I did do.

I reached my left hand through the bars and laid it over hers, stroking the top of it with my thumb. I started singing softly, hoping it would calm her.

"_When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me,  
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.  
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,  
speaking words of wisdom, let it be_…"

Although I did not quite believe in the song, it still seemed to be able to calm her quite a lot. For immediately after I started singing, Christine raised her head and looked at me, the tears slowly coming to a stop, dissolving away in her eyes.

"_Let it be…"_ she echoed softly.

She looked at me a long time, her hands squeezing mine. There was no expression of calmness…just confusion.

"Let it be," I stated back to her, confirming her thoughts.

Suddenly she yanked her hand away from me.

"I CAN'T!" she screamed, tears starting to fall again, "NOT MY FATHER TOO!"

With that, she backed away from me and I watched in despair as she fled from my tent.

I was about to ask God to be with her…to look down on her in pity…but then, I would just be kidding myself wouldn't I?

**Sadly this will be my last update for a while. I am going on vacation for three weeks and won't be able to update my story until then. My deepest apologies and I hope you are enjoying it so far. **


	5. In the Weeks that Followed

**Well I am finally back! I am sorry to say that there is not much of Erik in this chapter, however I did try and put him in as best as I could, there is quite a bit of Christine though. Poor Christine, her naïve little mind can only hold so much at a time, what with her father sick and only an inch from death and all... Anyways, guess who shows up in this chapter!? I'll let you figure it out… xD**

**Happy Reading!**

He was fading.

Each day his eyes grew further and further away.

Those eyes never twinkled anymore, only flecks of glittering tears of pain.

Papa's breathing also became more ragged and shallow, and there was constant blood being chocked up.

I never left his side, no matter how haunting and thin his face grew. He remained in bed and would eat nothing either Madame Giry or I gave him. All I could do was sit there and hold his clammy hand and mop his moist brow.

"I love you Papa, be strong for me," I would repeat over and over again.

Sometimes, he would open his eyes at the sound of my voice, but would never look me in the eyes. Yes, he would look in my direction, but never into the gateway to my soul.

Madame Giry kept me company and did most of the nurturing for my father. She and Meg now pretty much lived at my house, except for the times when Madame Giry would leave for a while to buy us food and retrieve medicines for my Papa.

Poor Meg, she hardly knew what was going on. She would always be found in the sitting room, staring out the window, watching the hustle and bustle of Paris go by. Every moan of pain my father made would absolutely terrify her out of her wits. I pitied her greatly, but I was too preoccupied by my father's health to be able to be her playmate for once.

Madame Giry would tell me my Papa was getting better and for about a week of this madness, I believed her, but as the second week came around, I went into despair that he would never get better.

* * *

He was asleep. 

I slipped into his room, shutting the door behind me.

Madame Giry was out collecting medicines; Meg accompanied her so I was left alone with my ill Papa.

As I walked over to his bedside, I noticed, if it was at all possible, his skin had lost even more color, therefore, he had become even whiter, looking very much like a mourning ghost.

With a dry sob, I go up to him and take his limp hand into my own.

"I think I found him, Papa," I whisper to him, lightly squeezing his large, square hands, "I think I found the Angel of Music, though he does not look like an angel…He could be testing me…seeing if I am worthy. His name is Erik, Papa, he is an attraction at a traveling circus. I know, strange place to find an angel, and one side of his face is really ugly, a lot of people don't accept him because of it. I didn't mind it of course, Maman had always told me that beauty was on the inside and it didn't matter what was on the outside."

I paused, taking a breath after having said so much. I noticed Papa's jaw quivered slightly. Oh good, he could hear me.

"Anyway, Papa, I went to visit him every day then he asked me to sing for him. Of course I obliged. I sang to him the one song that mother had taught me, you know…_Think of Me_?

"Guess what he accepted to teach me after I asked him, Papa? He accepted to give me lessons to help my singing, because he said my voice was so wonderful! And you know what else? He has the most amazing voice I have ever heard! I could listen to it and it alone for the rest of my life! It was when I first heard him sing that I decided he was my Angel of Music. He may not be handsome on one side, but he has the most handsome man's voice, any man would die to sound as he does. Can you believe it!?"

Tears of desperation were slowly starting to make their way down my cheeks as I tried so hard to bring some life back to my Papa, but he wouldn't even open his eyes.

"I really hope you get better Papa…" I said softly, kissing his forehead.

Suddenly I felt him squeeze my hand…and I took enough satisfaction out of that…for now…

_**Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik**_

"_Alright then…I give up!"_

I shout angrily to the heavens as my wagon…more of a cage on wheels…pulled me away from my only joy in the world. Oh well, she probably already forgot about me…who could _ever_ remember poor, unhappy Erik, whose trollop of a mother denied he was hers from almost the minute he was born? Who would ever pity the fellow who had the face so horrifying it scorched eyes of those who looked at it.

"Ha!" I exclaim, "Ha! Ha!"

I glare out the bars of my moving cage as the moon shone in my face, illuminating my hideousness.

With a heaved sigh, I closed my eyes, knowing that I would probably never see her again I just tried to remember Christine one last time…the sparkle of an eye, the flow of a curl, the flash of the throat as she breathed to begin singing, the trickling beauty of purity that was in the form of her voice. Oh God, her voice….

"_Does it hurt…?"_

"_Before my mummy died, she told me it doesn't matter what's on the outside, it's what is inside, she also told me that all God's creatures are beautiful in their own way…"_

"_Of course I did! I promised you I would, didn't I?"_

"_What is your name?"_

"_Goodbye, Erik."_

"_Yes, I love music…very much, I also love to sing,"_

"_Erik could you- I mean…could you possible help me with my singing…?"_

"_No! Erik you can't leave! You can't! I don't want them to hurt you anymore!"_

"_Mon Ange de la Musique!"_

"_Th-thank you, Erik!"_

"_Oh, Erik!"_

"_S-so much…bl-blood, Erik,"_

"_I CAN'T! NOT MY FATHER TOO!"_

My eyes shot open, it seemed almost as if she was in the room with me, I could remember her voice so perfectly as if etched into my mind forever.

Suddenly the cage gave a lurch and came to a stop, as did the others in front and behind mine. Apparently, in my time of dreaming, we had come to our next destination. It must have been hours already…it amazed me how fast time flew when I thought about little Christine.

Then the harsh voice of Buquet shattered my thoughts as he said seven words that made me clench my teeth in anger.

"_Get to work, everyone, show starts tomorrow."_

_**Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Chiristine-Christine-Chiristine-Christine-Chiristine-**_

A new day…a fresh start…would my Papa be okay?

"Christine?"

Looking up from my father's strained face, I saw Madame Giry standing in the threshold of the doorway. Although her expression was soft with pity, she almost had a stern look about her with her arms crossed and brow furrowed. Even more menacing was how her long, brown hair with few silvery gray strands was pulled back into a tight knot atop her head.

"Yes Madame?" I answered, squeezing my Papa's hand.

She sighed and, not looking nearly as strict, came into the room, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

I remained standing, my thumb stroking the top of my Papa's firm hand.

"Christine- you've been in here for so long…and it is such a nice day out, why do you not go outside and enjoy yourself, your father will still be here when you get back."

Sighing, I looked away. How could I do that? I could never leave my father when he was in this kind of state! Also, Madame Giry had the bakery to tend to; she couldn't stay here much longer.

"I know what you are thinking, Christine. Don't worry, I have Sorelli running the bakery, everything is under control and everything will be fine," she said quietly, but firmly.

Again, I did not meet her gaze; instead, I merely shrugged my shoulders, keeping my eyes trained on my father's pained features.

Madame Giry still continued.

"And…Comte Philippe de Chagny and his family have returned after a visit to some of their family in England…the Comte's brother claims that he knows you."

At this, my head whipped around to face the Madame.

Raoul was here!?

Madame Giry smiled, "Ahh, so the boy was not lying, well he came by a short while ago, apparently avoiding his governess for he was quite wide-eyed at your doorstep swiveling his head from side to side, he had asked me if you were in and I told him you were not available at the moment,"

I smiled in return and nodded.

"Raoul is my good friend, I've known him since I was four," I explained.

Madame Giry nodded her head, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Why don't you go play with the young Vicomte for a while?

I sat there in thought for a very long time, I guess for a little while wouldn't hurt…and I really wanted to see Raoul…

Finally I decided on my answer.

"Okay…but only for a little while…"

My response was a smile and a head nod.

I then let go of my father's hand, backed away from the bed, stretched, and rushed past Madame Giry, who was still sitting on the bed.

Soon I was out the door and on the streets of Paris.

It wasn't until I had to squint my eyes from the light and feel the warmness on my face that I realized how much I missed the sun.

As well as the fresh air! For the past two weeks all that my nostrils were acquainted with was the smell of blood, sweat, and medicine. It felt so good to be able to smell something new…something vaguely familiar.

Before I knew it, I was giggling with excitement and twirling in circles, my face tilted skyward, drinking in the sight of the gentle blue.

"Christine!"

Suddenly my little 'freedom dance' was interrupted as the sound of my name being called reached my ears.

"Little Lotte!"

I wheeled around and what I saw caused my already big smile to grow even more so.

Raoul was making his way towards me, his blonde hair shining in the sunlight. His hair wasn't the only thing that was shining, never had I seen such brilliant blue eyes on a person. Those eyes sparkled like two suns on his fair face as he came towards me, his small tailcoat looking quite out of place, my guess was that he and his brother, as well as his sisters had just gotten back and he was so eager to escape that he didn't care what he was wearing.

I giggled, Raoul was just that predictable.

"Raoul!" I replied happily, running towards him to close the distance between us. I laughed out loud as he pulled me into a bear hug, himself laughing as well.

Once he got better control of himself, Raoul pulled back and took my hand, placing a sweet kiss on my knuckles.

I smiled, but couldn't to remember someone else had done that same thing to that same hand…For some reason, I felt as if Raoul should have kissed the other hand…that he was invading someone else's territory…

I shook my head at how silly I was being. It was _my_ hand for crying out loud! Raoul could kiss which hand he ever so pleased. No one else could decide that for me…but still it felt strange.

Before I could dwell upon who had done that same action, Raoul started talking again and I eagerly began to listen…all past thoughts somewhat forgotten.

"Wow Christine, it's been forever since I have seen you! I missed you a lot," he said, dropping my hand.

"I know, I missed-"

"RAOUL DE CHAGNY!"

Both of us jumped as we saw Raoul's governess striding towards us.

"Same old tree house?" I asked as she came closer.

Raoul nodded, "Same old tree house," he confirmed.

With that, we were off, his stiff legged governess left hopelessly in the dust.

* * *

"She did WHAT?" I asked in humor as Raoul told me stories of his sisters while they were in England. 

"Yes, shaved the cat…all the fur…completely gone," he answered between fits of laughter.

My laughter mingled with his and for once I was truly happy after two weeks of watching my sick father.

This reminded me that I still had yet to tell Raoul about him.

When our laughs quieted, we merely just looked at each other.

Giggling, I pulled a twig from his blonde hair; he laughed and pulled a few leaves out of mine.

Getting to the tree house was not the easiest task, for in the past three years of his absence, the tree house, my Papa had built for us in a small forest just a mile away from the cemetery my Maman was sleeping at, had overflowed with branches of the trees surrounding it because of our lack of use in it.

Thankfully, we had managed to clear out a space big enough for the two of us.

"Enough about all my stories…what about you, Christine, how are you and your father?" Raoul suddenly asked, hardly knowing that he had caused my insides to squirm uncomfortably at the thought of my father.

I dropped my head and murmured barely audibly, "My father is sick, Raoul…and I think he is dying…" I refused to cry, I had shed enough tears already…and besides, Papa would want me to be strong.

Before I knew what had happened, Raoul had his arms sheltered around me, the wetness of his hot tears splattering my face and trickling down my cheeks as if I had been crying as well. I had never seen Raoul this way, never had I seen him cry before…but of course as I remembered that Papa had always seemed like a father figure to Raoul as well since his father had died when he was barely even two. I never realized what impact my father's condition had on Raoul, but it felt nice to be able to share my pain with someone else.

Once again I had that same feeling that someone had already done that…someone had already understood me like that…

With a shrug of the shoulder, I shook off the thought, here Raoul and I were, mourning for my dying father and all I could do was think of how it seemed I had shared these feelings before with someone. I was too confused to dwell anymore upon those thoughts; instead I tried to focus on the feeling of finally being able to let out my sorrow to someone who could relate.

Finally, I pulled back from the gentle embrace Raoul had on me and gave him a dry, yet watery smile. Dry because I had not shed a tear, not a tear at all. Watery because the splashes of Raoul's tears still lingered on my skin.

For some reason I found it rather uncomfortable and it seemed to itch, so I brushed them off with the tip of my finger, still managing a smile.

Raoul returned the look and gently squeezed my shoulders.

"I bet he will be okay…you'll see," he said sweetly, but his voice still stung with denial, and his eyes bore the look of doubt…yet part of me…mainly all of me wished he was right.

* * *

_A crack of a whip._

_Yells of agony!_

_Another crack of a whip._

_Screeches of pain!_

_Oh how horrible! I could hardly stand to listen to it!_

_I had to help the person for no one young or old, innocent or guilty deserved to experience the pain the person who was emitting the sounds seemed to be going through._

_Suddenly I found myself in a cage, but the sound of labored breathing informed me I was not alone._

_Slowly, I turned my head to the other side of the cage gasping at what I saw._

_There was a man…a young man it seemed…he was clad only in ragged black trousers and he was hunched up into a little ball, seeming to be shielding himself from something._

_His face was not visible, only the back of his head, which was full of thick, ebony hair. His skin contrasted dramatically with his hair, for it was almost as white as snow when it was untouched by life. _

_Yet, there was something…off in his ivory skin. There were dark gashes scattered throughout his body and they seemed to be dripping onto the straw-covered ground._

_Blood._

_Oh how I hated blood! The dark liquid always announced the loosing strength of one's life and it always bothered me to not extent._

_This man needed help! But for some reason, my legs would not move, nor would my voice work to be able to call out to him, all I could do was stand there and let tears slip down my cheeks as I watched this main suffer in silent agony._

_Yet suddenly, the silence disappeared as he let out a cry, saying something that I had to strain to hear._

"_Oh my Angel…my sweet little Angel…how I miss you so."_

_I sighed at his sorrow and wanted to be able to comfort him, but my legs would still not move._

_Finally I was able to let out a strangled cry and the man heard it for suddenly he whipped his head in my direction and I gasped again._

_That face!_

_That distortion!_

_Those golden eyes! _

_I knew them!_

_He extended a hand towards me. _

"_Oh my little Christine…" _

_Erik…  
_

_Erik!_

_ERIK!_

"Christine! Christine!"

My eyes shot opened and I snapped my head around to see Madame Giry kneeling down next to me at my bed, her hand on my brow. I stared at her for a very long time, not quite knowing where I was.

When I finally blinked my eyes, I came to the realization that had been crying as tears latched on to my eyelashes and boiling hot, yet freezing cold perspiration beaded my forehead and caused my hair to stick to my face in a very uncomfortable manner and I used my fingers to pick off the strands that laid across my eyes and mouth.

"Christine?"

I brought my eyes back to face Madame Giry and sat up in my bed. I hadn't realized until now that I was shaking and Madame Giry had to put her other arm on my shoulder to get me to stop.

"Christine? Are you alright…what happened? I assume it was a nightmare, but what could possible scare you so much that you were thrashing around, screaming, and sobbing like that?"

I blinked my eyes a couple of times, trying to recall what I had just witnessed in my time of sleep.

I could not tell her what I had seen, she would think I was mad or something, or the fact that my father was dying was driving me mad.

No, it was best I just say that I didn't remember the dream.

Once all of my breath was under control, I lay back down on the bed and looked Madame Giry in the eyes, trying so hard to look like I was innocent and not lying.

"I-I don't remember…I just remember hearing someone scream in pain…I-It frightened me…"

Madame Giry sighed and bent down, kissing my forehead and adjusting the covers so that they were wrapped more securely around my trembling body.

"Alright my dear, just remember that whatever was in you dream can not harm you and you are safe here in your little warm bed," she smiled, playfully poking my nose with her finger.

Giggling softly, I nodded and kissed her cheek before bidding her goodnight she smiled and blew out my candle, but suddenly a thought struck me just when she was about to leave the room.

"Madame!"

She stopped at the threshold and turned around at me, only her silhouette visible.

"How his father doing?" I ask softly, curious being as how I had not seen him since I got back from visiting with Raoul.

There was a long pause and I didn't know what expect because I could not see Madame Giry in the dark.

"He is the same as before, no different, Christine…" she answered

I sighed; I knew exactly what that meant:

'Your father is not at all getting better, he may never get better, and there is not much we can do now…'

"Thank you, Madame," I said softly, turning over in my bed to face the window on the other side.

It was when I knew she had left and when I had closed my eyes did I finally allow the tears to begin falling for the man in my dreams…

"Oh poor, unhappy Erik…"

**Alright here is chapter five.  
****I believe that once chapter six is done with, we finally be able to go forward in time a little bit. Not quite sure yet. Anyway, we finally have Raoul in the plot and he is there to stay, also for those of you who have not read Leroux, he is based off of the Raoul in the book more so than the one in the movie, just thought I would let you know. So, this is where my Author note comes to an end, I would just like to apologize again for the lack of Erik in this chapter. Still, at least he is sort of in there…I try :) **


	6. The Madness of Life

**Sorry for the long awaited update. It's been hard because my dog recently passed away and my family and I had to deal with that madness. But still, I managed to get this chapter done and I can't wait to go forward in time a little bit, but **_**just**_** a little bit. We still need Christine and Erik to grow closer to each other and we need a little bit more character development before any of the other stuff starts to happen.**

"Papa, I really miss seeing your smiling face…" I whisper to his still form, but the only response was an exhale of breath and more coughing.

As quickly as I could, I grabbed the wet cloth and pressed it to his steaming brow as his face scrunched up in agony. Suddenly the dark liquid that I most hated started leaking out of the corner of his mouth.

And then Papa started doing something that I would forever be haunted by. His eyes snapped open and he started withering in pain, thrashing his arms about and retching horrendously.

"Shh…Shh, Papa shush…shush…Madame Giry needs her rest…It will be okay, you're going to be okay…we are going to be okay…Please…PLEASE STOP!"

He did.

His movement ceased and his whole entire body went limp, his head lolling to the side and his chin resting on his shoulder, eyes closing. Then the blood came, flowing steadily out of his gaping mouth…

"Oh God!" I scream and within an instant Madame Giry was at the door, her movements much too swift for someone who was supposed to be asleep. I noticed Meg was directly behind her, droopy-eyed and confused looking.

"Christine?"

"For God's sake Papa! Look at me! Please look at me!" I scream hopelessly. Madame Giry was directly behind me now, about to pull me away.

I rip away from her grasp, running to the other side of the bed, taking my father's head in my hands.

"No! No! No!"

Before I knew it, my hands were covered in blood as was my favorite white frock that Maman had made for me.

"Papa! Please! Please look at me!"

Unexpectedly, his eyes shot open and he gently grabbed my wrist, looking up at the ceiling with his foggy gray eyes as he moved his head out of my grasp.

"Look at me…" I say again, tears flowing down my face like a small waterfall.

And finally- after almost four weeks of not looking at me, those gray eyes met my blue ones.

With a sudden burst of strength, he pulled himself up, putting both his hands on my shoulders and supporting his weight on me. I gasped at his heaviness, but I managed to remain standing, but I was not sure how much longer I could.

His weight was crushing me, but still I did not fall.

Blood was dripping onto my face, but still I did not fall.

Suddenly his lips fumbled around, trying to say something.

"C-Chrrris…Chriii…stiiinnnee…"

I didn't know what was happening, I just know that those once merry gray eyes suddenly seemed to turn black as all of a sudden his dead weight was thrust down upon me.

That was when I fell. I fell in so many ways then one… and my father fell with me, on top of me, his empty eyes staring straight into my own and his stiff, clammy hands still on my shoulders.

_Scream!_ I told myself, _SCREAM!_

My mouth opened, but still, no sound came out…none…nothing.

All that I received was a mouthful of blood.

_There is a corpse on you! Get up! Get UP! SCREAM! SCREAM FOR HELP!_

But I couldn't…I didn't want to leave my Papa…dead or alive.

My hair was suddenly now soaked with blood and my own tears.

Oh God! Help! HELP!

Next thing I knew, there was a hand on my right wrist, pulling me out from under the corpse. All of this madness happening in a matter of seconds…but it seemed as if it was a lifetime.

Then there was a scream….a shriek of a pain so deep, it alone could make the most inconsolable man weep like an infant. A shriek so full of longing and agony that it seemed to ring throughout the entire world. A Symphony of Sorrow.

It took a moment before I realized that the shriek was my own.

"Christine, get up child, you can't help him now…no one can," a voice gently said in my ear.

Madame Giry finally managed to lift me up from under the corpse, but I pulled myself away, laying myself over my Papa's back, sobbing helplessly into the crook of his neck.

"Oh Papa, my dear sweet Papa! Why? WHY!?"

Madame Giry grasped my shoulders and pulled me away, her hands more firm now.

"Christine he is gone. There is nothing you can do. He is one of God's angels now," she said, her tone gentle.

"NO! God can't have him! Not my Papa too! I need him! He needs me! Please! Please! Let him stay! Oh please let him stay, I'll do anything! Take me instead! Anything!"

"Calm down, it is alright, you don't even know what you are saying…you are going to be alright," after Madame Giry finished saying this, she then proceeded to pull me away, towards the door…away from Papa.

"NO! NO! NO!"

Again, I tried to restrain her, heaving my little body as much as possible against her surprisingly strong grasp.

Farther…farther away….

"Papa! Don't leave me please!"

Farther….farther away….

I saw Meg at the threshold of the doorway, her eyes wide with shock, tears making their way down her face.

Farther…farther away…

Suddenly, everything became a blur the shouting, the screaming, which I am sure was all my own, as well as the drumming beat of my heart, all the sounds just seemed to cease as I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head and my whole body went limp as my world went black…My father's last words ringing in my ears.

"_C-Chrrris…Chriii…stiiinnnee…"_

_**Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik**_

"See my children! See le Mort Vivant!"

_Here we go again…_

I thought bitterly as my tormentor made his way into my newly made tent, timid footsteps following behind him.

Knowing it was pointless to cover my face, I merely just stared at the audience as they gasped and pointed at me, some people staggering back a step.

Gritting my teeth, I dropped my eyes to the ground, but I was well aware of the cage door opening and closing with extremely swift speed so that I would have no hope of getting out.

I braced myself as I heard the rustling sound of leather as a whip was pulled back, ready to strike.

The first strike never hurt, it just shocked me, except for the sound of my own flesh being torn from my body, which was what made me sick.

A second strike, this one pained me more, but still, I refused to show any sign of weakness.

A third strike.

That one was the most painful. I swore he struck me to the bone, but I could just be imagining things…all strikes seemed to melt together after the third one.

After squinting my eyes in pain, I finally opened them….and came face to face with a pair of big, blue eyes.

My heart seemed to jump into my throat, until the owner of the eyes, an unfamiliar child, screamed and burst into tears. Then my heart fell into nothingness, the only way of rescuing it was to see Christine again.

The mother of the child screamed and stumbled back, pulling the girl along with her.

"What's this? Frightening children now are we?" Buquet growled, punching me in the back of the head so that my face was smashed into the metal bars, causing my teeth to sink deeply into my bottom lip and my nose to burst again, sending blood spattering everywhere.

More shrieks of fear and disgust.

Then there was a dull pain against the right side of my head…then the back side…then the right side again. It took me a moment before I realized, the audience was throwing things at me.

I let out a howl of pain as someone threw a pocket knife and it hit my in the left shoulder. Blood began oozing down my shoulder, to my elbow, and then to my hand, making it look very much like I was wearing a crimson sleeve.

"That…will…do," my tormentor said through his fits of laughter as I pulled the knife out of my shoulder.

_Now was my chance…_

Without giving a second thought of what the outcome would be, I threw the knife directly at the unsuspecting Buquet.

Oh how I will treasure the look on his face for the rest of my life and the way his laughter just suddenly seemed to cease as he looked down at his stomach where the knife was punctured. He looked back up at me and with a shriek fell to the ground.

The next thing I knew I was up on my feet, despite the fact my body was screaming in pain, wheeling around and heading towards the cage door.

By now, the entire crowd had run away screaming.

Finally I was at the cage door, trying to pull it open.

_It was locked._

How could I have been so stupid?! Locked! I needed the keys!

Apparently in my rush of bold madness, I did not think to get the keys from my tormentor.

As fast as I could, I ran up to Buquet's still form, searching for the keys until I finally found them in his left pocket.

Yes!

Unfortunately, right when I was about to stick the key into the lock, I heard a rustling sound, the snap of a whip, and suddenly it was wrapped around my wrist...

"No…no you don't!" my tormentor rasped, yanking the whip, causing me to fall to my feet.

"No! No!" I yell, kicking at his shins with my feet.

It was useless, he had me cornered.

"There aint no little wench to save you now, bastard."

_**Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine**_

"We gather here today to mourn the loss of our dearly beloved friend, Gustave Daaé…"

Whatever the minister was saying, I could not hear…the sound of his flat, tuneless voice and the occasional quiet sobbing from the crowd all blended into one sound. A sound that could be blocked out by my thoughts.

He was gone…my father was truly gone…and he was never coming back…I was all alone now…

Surprisingly throughout the entire funeral I remained dried-eyed and nearly soulless. I just sat there, staring into nothingness, letting my thoughts wander, not acknowledging anyone…even if they spoke to me.

Never could I erase the memory of my father's dead eyes staring directly into my own as his blood poured out of his mouth and all over my face and hair…

I shuddered and shut my eyes, trying to erase the memory, but it was always there…his stiff form, lifeless above me…always there…

A gentle pressure on my left shoulder informed me that Madame Giry…Maman Giry now… had placed her hand there in a comforting gesture.

With a sigh, I came back to earth and began looking around the area.

It was an outside funeral…taking place in the cemetery in which he was to be buried in fact… and it was quite the lovely day. The cemetery looked especially extravagant with its many flowers shining together.

My eyes wandered to the guests here. There were actually a lot, which surprised me…I never knew Papa had known so many people in his life.

My gaze came to rest on the de Chagnys. There stood Comte Philippe, his hat off and held over his chest in one hand…his other hand was resting comfortingly on Raoul's shoulder. The two sisters looked bored as if they were ready to leave. This angered me and I found myself clenching my hands into fists. Poor Raoul was an absolute mess. There were tears streaking steadily down his cheeks and his blonde hair didn't look nearly as shiny…more of a dull gold. Philippe squeezed Raoul's shoulder affectionately and Raoul closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them, our eyes met. He gave me a sad smile of which I did not return. I felt as if I would never smile again.

When finally I turned my eyes away from Raoul, they settled on a large wooden box behind the droning minister. I quickly turned away from that too.

_Papa is in there…Papa…my Papa was being closed away into a wooden box, never to be seen by the mortal eye again…_

There was a soft cry that unexpectedly filled the air and I covered my mouth with my hand when I realized it was my on sound. Although the minister kept going, I could feel the eyes of everyone burning into my skull. Giving me a look of pity.

_Pity._

How I hated that word right now! It never did anything to help…it just made me want to cry more…or make me feel weak. With another sharp cry, that I had no control over, I wheeled around and ran down the walking isle, away from everyone, slipping on the wet grass, but still managing not to fall.

It was quite the windy day out. I realized this when the wind whipped my face and blew my curls back, causing my eyes to water. It sighed in my ears as if saying something to me…

_Go back! Go Back!_

I knew it was just my imagination…so I easily shrugged off, still continuing to run.

Distantly, I heard Maman Giry call my name softly, but once again I ignored the woman. Part of me felt bad, for I always seemed to be ignoring her when she called for me…but my guilt quickly vanished as I saw my destination.

Maman's grave.

Without giving much a thought of what I was doing, I threw my arms around her tombstone and sobbed dryly against the marble. Papa would be there, sleeping under the ground with her…They already had his tombstone set up…but for some reason they held the funeral over by the stream and were to carry his coffin up to this spot later. My stomach jolted at the sight of the hole in the ground right next to Maman's grave.

As I still continued to hug my Maman's tombstone, I couldn't help but think about in a few short hours my Papa's body was going to be down there…never to be seen again…

It was finally when I felt searing pain in my joints that I realized I had been hugging the marble too tightly. Wonderful, now I was going to have bruises on my arms. Sighing, I let go of the stone and sat down in front of it, leaning my back against it. I felt bad, for still I had not shed a single tear today, sure I sobbed, but all those sobs were dry. It was strange because I was crying…I knew I was, but there were no tears… it seemed that I had cried all of my tears out already in the past three days since my Papa's death.

"Christine?"

It was Raoul. I did not wish to speak with him…I did not wish to speak with anybody for the rest of my life.

"Christine..?"

Again, I paid no heed to his words; I just kept my eyes trained on the scenery in front of me.

"Little Lotte…"

Finally with an angry sigh I stand and turn around to meet his eyes,

"Not now, Ra-"

He had thrown his arms around me before I could tell him to leave. I didn't like him embracing me…it felt like dead weight on my already sinking heart. My arms remained limp at my sides and my expression emotionless…I wanted him…to leave me alone…

After what seemed like a lifetime he _finally _pulled away and gave me a look of complete pity. I merely just stared right back at him, taking note on how his eyes looked really glassy from crying.

"I'm so sorry, Christine…really I am…I know how it feels…"

With a sigh of frustration, I turn away from him, gazing up at the sky where my Papa was finally with my Maman.

"Please…just go, Raoul," my reply was soft, but firm and to the point and Raoul seemed to understand for he suddenly came up to me and placed a kiss on my cheek before heading back.

This action would have made me blush, had it not been for the situation I was in. Soon the sound of Raoul's footsteps were no longer audible and I was alone again.

The wind that was still steadily blowing suddenly picked up force and caused me to stagger back a few steps. Again it whipped me in the face, causing me to turn around so as not to cause my eyes to water.

Once I turned my body away from the tombstone and the fierce blowing wind, I gazed around on what was in front of me.

My eyes settled on a rose bush about five yards, they were so pretty…

Without giving much thought as to what I was doing, I walked up to the bush and merely just stared at the beauty of it all. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the smell of them and took note that the wind had settled down a little. It was…peaceful…I was at peace for once…

I opened my eyes when suddenly the wind picked up more force again and just stared at the bush. The roses were such a full, dark red color…almost the color of blood.

Physically, I shook my head. No, I would not let my thoughts dwell back to that memory…my Papa would not want me to remember him that way…

Again, I focused my attentions back on the roses and found myself reaching out to take one. Just as my hand closed around it and I began to tug, I jerked my hand back with a squeak of pain.

Oh it had been so long since I had handled a rose I had forgotten they had thorns. I laughed at my moment of stupidity despite myself. My fingers were suddenly quite sticky with the blood that the thorn had caused, after wiping them on my black dress I attempted to get the rose again, taking caution of the thorns this time. Finally it came off…I was victorious. This would be a beautiful tribute to my father when he was in the ground….

"What do you think you are doing? That isn't yours!"

I gasped and immediately dropped the rose and turned around to see the caretaker striding towards me.

"I-I'm sorry…it won't happen again, sir…" I whispered frantically when he reached me.

"You best hope it won't, Mademoiselle," he said angrily, "Run along, now."

Nodding in response, I watched as he moved away, no doubt to tend to some of the other tombstones.

Just then there was a huge gust of wind again and right when I turned around to pick up the rose, I saw that it had already taken flight with the wind and was sailing out of reach and out of sight down the city of Paris where it was sure to be destroyed…

With a sigh, I slowly started making my way back towards the rest of the guests, somehow feeling emptier than before.

_**Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik**_

"GET UP!"

There was suddenly a pain in my ribs and my eyes slowly came open. I was greeted with the baggy form of Piangi leering down at me.

"Hah. You almost died, bastard, if the police had not shown up from all of the screaming, you'd be rotting in this cage even as I speak," he said, kicking me in the ribs again.

I grunted in pain…too tired to not show weakness.

As my vision came into even better focus I realized I was still in the cage. I sighed, thinking that death probably wouldn't have been so bad…

"Buquet?" I question, wondering what had happened to him…last thing I remember, he was about to kill me…

Piangi scowled darkly before answering me.

"Well, he was just about to drive that knife into your heart when he passed out from blood loss- WIPE THAT LOOK OFF OF YOUR FACE, HE IS STILL ALIVE, BASTARD- anyway, you passed out shortly after he did because right when he passed out, he managed to drive the knife into your stomach…"

I cocked my one eyebrow at him, wondering how he knew all of this.

Piangi seemed to read my expression.

"I know this because I walked into the tent right when I saw him heading toward you with the knife, the rest of the story played out before my eyes, anyway, like I said, the police showed up and they insisted that we take care of you, despite how you look…So after Buquet was carried off in a stretcher, we cleaned out your wounds and, with the urging of the police, cleaned you up as well-"

At this I looked down to discover that indeed he was right…I was actually wearing a white tunic and my hands were…clean. Still, I noticed that Piangi was talking and I began listening to him again.

"The police said that if things got out of hand like that again than they would be force to shut us down…and you would be hanged."

I sneered up at him, sitting myself up so that I could avoid being kicked at again.

Piangi grunted and said, "Well, I guess that will be all…Buquet will be up and about probably by next week…but don't give your hopes up, knowing him, it could be tomorrow…"

With a snicker, he left me, spitting at my feet as he exited the cage and started heading out of the tent.

Suddenly, he stopped.

"Oh, and one more thing…we will be leaving this area soon…You pretty much scared all the patrons into never coming back…"

With that, he left and I was finally alone.

Deciding to test my strength, I attempted to stand, but found, with a hiss of pain, that I was still too much in pain.

I set myself into a sitting position, lifting up my new tunic to see how bad the wound was. To my surprise, I could not see, for they had placed a white cloth bandage over it, the rust colored stain in the middle of it, however, told me that I had bled through it. All in all, it was not that bad of a wound and I was surprised I had passed out from it, but given the fact I was in such a weak state to begin with…I find it sort of made since.

A gust of cold wind on my back informed me that Piangi had failed to close the tent and had left it carelessly opened.

I could tell by the creaking of the tent that it was extremely windy outside and I silently hoped that the wind would not knock down my only shelter.

Right when I turned my face away from the opening, a rustling sound caused me to bring my gaze directly back to it. There was something red at the grassy floor of my tent…if Piangi, or anyone for that matter, were to walk in again, it would definitely be crushed.

There was another heavy blow of wind and the red object blew directly into my tent, right next to my cage.

Managing to shuffle over towards the object, it didn't take me long to realize…it was a rose. Some petals were ripped and it was slightly wilted, but it was still a rose nonetheless.

My brow furrowed as I wondered just where exactly the rose had come from.

By the light of one of the nearest torches, I examined the fallen beauty carefully, jerking my hand back as one of my fingers ran over a thorn. I laughed at my ignorance…just because it was old didn't mean it did not still have thorns….

Looking carefully, I discovered that someone else had gone through the same fate as I, for on one of the thorns near the top there was a dried blood stain. I knew it was blood because there was never a day in my life that I went through without smelling blood. I was willing to bet my life that the dried liquid was blood…it was old blood…it had been there a while, but it was still the liquid that caused pain whenever it escaped one's body.

Stroking the petals fondly, I found my thoughts once again wandering to little Christine.

She was very much like a rose…Beautiful, delicate, but with a little bit of a sharp edge whenever she saw something she didn't like.

Yes Christine was a rose…just like she was an angel.

I smiled and closed my eyes, laying down in my straw bed (if you can even call it that) and the last thing I saw in my mind's eye before slipping off into a fitful sleep were those beautiful blue eyes looking into my own as she handed me a rose with her own blood dripping off one of the thorns. Despite that, she still smiled at me and spoke to me in a very soft voice.

"_I missed you, Erik."_

**I know, I know. It is very unlikely that the rose Christine had picked at the cemetery would have made it all the way to poor Erik, but oh well, at least there was a little character interaction between the two…even though they didn't realize it. Okay, well I guess it is finally time to go forward in time a little bit. I hope you guys are enjoying this so far…I sure am enjoying writing it :) **

**-Il Fantasma **


	7. Reuniting

**Back with an update! Sorry for the wait…there was a lot of storming where I was and so I could not get on the computer much…thankfully I wrote a draft that ended up being discarded when I got a better idea ;).**

**I must say I am little put out with the lack of reviews on my last chapter. Oh well, more reviews on this one, yes? **

**–nod nod- **

**That sounds reasonable :) **

**Anyways, it is set two years later and Christine is now ten. I know, she was seven in the earlier chapters, however she was about to turn eight anyway, so the story is now set a little over two years later, so that would mean Christine just recently turned ten. **

**Well, that is basically it. Just a little information to help lower the confusion rate.**

**Happy reading!**

_There he was again. His deathly stiff body crushing down on me as his blank, mindless eyes stared straight into mine. Blood was everywhere. No…blood was __**everything. **__Blood was the floor I was lying on. Blood was the walls that were currently dripping disgustingly onto the floor. Blood was the ceiling as it dripped down upon my Papa's body and my own…Blood was my Papa as he started to seemingly __**melt **__into that dark liquid on top of me. _

_The blood was smothering me, suffocating me, chocking me as it flowed into my mouth, my eyes, my ears, my nose, my hair. _

"_C-Chrrris…Chriii…stiiinnnee…"_

"No!"

My eyes snapped open as my body sprang up from the bed.

_Bed_…I was in a bed, which meant… it was just a dream… Of course it was! The same dream I had been having for two years! Looking down, I noticed that my entire body was shaking violently and the white sheets were all tussled about.

A sudden pain in my bottom lip caused me to reach up and touch it. It was sticky…which meant I had bitten through my lip in my sleep again.

It was always the same…if not worse each time; this dream was probably one of the worse yet…excluding the one where my father was calling to me from underground, claiming that he was not dead and demanding that I should unearth his body.

Ughh, it was horrible! And I had to live with it every single night. Even at ten years old, the look of his wide, hauntingly empty eyes burying into the depths of my soul would forever be etched into my memory…

"Christine?"

"I'm alright, Antoinette," I reply by instinct as the silhouette of her figure appeared at the doorway. When my father had died, she insisted that I called her Maman Giry, but it felt strange to be calling her that, so she just told me to call her by her true name, it took a while to get used to and it felt quite awkward at first, but now, calling her by her first name became a part of life. She and Meg had moved into my house and we all now lived in it together, one small, yet content family…apart from my continuous nightmares.

"I know, it was another nightmare, just remember, it is over now…it will never happen again and it cannot hurt you no matter what," she said softly, remaining at the threshold of the doorway.

I felt bad, she had gotten up every single night to check on me and tell me the exact same thing for two entire years, yet, she never appeared tired or worn out the next day. Age had not yet caught up with that woman, and I wished to be very much like her when I was eventually her age.

"Thank you," I whispered before she smiled and slipped out of my room, leaving my door opened in case I decided to get in bed with either her or Meg. I had never once done so because I did not want to appear a coward who could not fight off their nighttime demons on their own…But, for some reason, Antoinette still thought that I might have a dream so traumatizing that even I wouldn't be able to fight the demons.

With a sigh, I rolled over in my bed, getting into a more comfortable position while pulling the quilt tighter around me. Finally, I closed my eyes, expecting to see those blank gray eyes, but now…instead there were a pair of glimmering golden eyes, staring sadly at me in the surrounding darkness. My last thought before I slipped out of consciousness was where I had seen such mystifying eyes before…

* * *

"Look over there!" Meg suddenly exclaimed, running to the window of the bakery, peering outside. 

I looked up from my sewing to see what was going on outside the Giry Bakery that had Meg so excited. My question was answered when I saw a train of colorful wagons being pulled by two black horses along the cobble-stoned streets.

"Let's go look!" Meg said excitedly, coming up next to me and pulling on the sleeve of my frock, causing me to prick my finger with the needle I was using.

"Ow! Meg! Look what you did!" I cried angrily as blood seeped through the small puncture on my finger. _Blood. _I grimaced at the sight and pulled the long sleeve of my white frock over it, concealing the small wound from my gaze.

"I'm sorry, Christine, I-"

"What's all of this fuss about?" Antoinette asked, suddenly appearing from the back from with some freshly baked muffins.

"Look!" Meg said, pointing out of the window. Antoinette followed her finger out the window and her eyes widened.

"Meg, those are Gypsies, you stay away from them," She stated firmly before sweeping past her towards the counter, setting the muffins down.

"But, Maman!" Meg whined, but she was quickly interrupted when a customer came in, interested in the different types of bread.

After watching the display I decided to wash out my wound. Right when I stood from my chair in the corner, I looked out the window one last time. There was a cage-like wagon coming by now and what was inside of it caused me to completely forget what I was actually going to do. My sewing equipment fell to the floor with a clatter as my eyes took in the sight of a pair of onyx eyes staring longingly into my own from the cage they were in. My heart seemed to pick up twice the normal speed and perspiration dotted my forehead. Then, just as soon as they appeared…the Eyes were gone…the wagon pulling them out of my gaze.

Without giving a second thought to anything, I was immediately going to the back room, retrieving my emerald cloak from the rack. Pulling it around me and drawing the hood up, I was soon out of the store before Antoinette realized I had even moved. By the time I had gotten out, the train of wagons had already gone all the way down the streets. Not quite sure if this was what I wanted to do, but determined nevertheless, I slowly, yet surely started following the Gypsy circus…at a _very_ safe distance.

_**Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik**_

For one fleeting moment, I could have sworn that I saw _her, _but just for a moment…the wagon (cage) I was in had moved too quickly for me to be able to be certain. It did not matter, for if Christine truly remembered me, if she was truly the angel I thought she was, then she would come to me…I didn't know when, but I knew… for some reason, I knew that she would return to me.

Finally, we reached the familiar fair grounds and my "carriage" lurched to a sudden stop, sending me crashing to the other side of the wall. Muttering various curses under my breath, I stood up and rubbed my chin, looking out at the open stretch of grass, on the outskirts of Paris.

It had been two years since I had been here and I had promised Christine I would be back in a year…Surely, she would come back…

I angrily pounded my fist against the wall of my wagon. I was contradicting myself…Hadn't I just thought earlier that I knew she was to come back…?

The battle of 'would she or wouldn't she return' continued to rage in my head, even after Buquet called out that we would have time for a late night show if we made haste in setting up.

I watched from my wagon as all of the circusmen set up the tents and had the animals moving about as they organized them into their cages. As someone came towards my wagon, leering at me, I knew that I was the next _animal_ to put in a cage. The clang of a lock sounded off and three men came into my cage, two of them attaching the chain rope to my already bound wrists while the other man bound my ankles with the some more chains. Soon, I was being pushed and beaten out of door towards my recently set up tent where my new cage had been made.

Once I was finally situated, the three men sneered and spat at me, commenting on how I had behaved quite nicely than what I was normally capable of. Those fools had no idea. I had given up fighting long ago...coming to the conclusion that it never works and that it is just wasting strength. Soon the men had left, leaving me alone to dwell upon my thoughts until a familiar sound of boots on the dusty path alerted me that Buquet was coming in to check on how things were going.

"We set up unnaturally quick today, wretch," he stated lazily, as he entered the tent, leaning again one of the wooden poles that kept the tent up.

I had always found it odd that no matter what had happened between Buquet and I, he always had the same behavior towards me…I had stabbed him with a knife two years prior, yet he still shows no fear of me to this day. Although I would die a thousand deaths before admitting it, I did slightly admire the man for it…

My response to his statement was just a simple nod. I was not at all eager for the show to start, but I was hoping that perhaps Christine would show up after it.

"Not very talkative…are you?" my tormentor mutter, regarding me with that steel cold gaze of his. He chuckled and shook his head, "But of course…you never were…" He picked up a stone from the ground, examining it closely. "Well, why talk when I can do _this_?" he said suddenly, chucking the stone at me. Luckily, it rebounded from the closely set bars of the cage and landed on the grass a fair distance away. Through this entire ordeal I didn't even flinch…just continued to stare directly into his eyes.

Scowling darkly, Buquet made his way closer to my cage, his face only inches away from mine…the bars being the only thing that saved us from each other.

"Clever bastard…You know all of my tricks…don't you?"

For a very long time, we both just glared into each others eyes before I had had enough and I spat at him, hitting him directly in the face. He blanched before stepping back and wiping the saliva off of his face.

"You damned fool! That will just be another day without food or water that you earned yourself…"

With that, he stormed off, leaving me to smirk in satisfaction…for now.

_**Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine**_

I remained hidden behind the tent that was labeled 'The Devil's Child', knowing who was in there. I had watched as Buquet entered and exited the tent, reminding me to remain where I was, no matter what happened. I knew there was going to be no remorse this time if I tried to stop them from doing their job again.

Once Buquet had left the tent, I figured that the coast was clear for the moment. It may not be the wisest choice to come here at this time…but I couldn't help myself…I _had_ to see him…_had_ to see if he was alright. There must have been a reason as to why he had not returned for two years…especially since he seemed so sure that he would be returning in just a year's time.

With a slight nod of the head, I made sure that the hood of my cloak was still drawn over my head, concealing my face from far away, and cautiously entered the back way of the tent.

There he was. He had his back to me and I winced when I saw all of the scars, bruises, and cuts etched into his skin. I found myself clenching my fists in anger…it was because he was here that he had gotten those marks upon his back. For some strange reason, I felt an odd urge to leave and I didn't know why…it just came to me, however, I withstood the urge and took a step closer. I noticed how he jerked up his head and looked towards the entrance way and I wondered if he had heard my footsteps and thought someone was coming in to beat him or something.

Finally, I took a breath and spoke.

"E-Erik?"

The way it had come out was like a small rasping, stuttering cough…was I really that nervous? He didn't seem to notice, however he looked more alert…perhaps he thought my voice was merely a sigh on the wind.

There was a noise and voices nearby and I unconsciously pulled my hood tighter over my head, knowing that it wouldn't do much good anyway.

After a moment, I tried again.

"Erik."

That did it. His whole body seemed to relax after what seemed to be a lifetime of tension, and then…then his head slowly turned around to face me, the rest of his body following.

Blue was reunited with gold once more.

The first thought that occurred to me was _smile_ that was all I could think to do…

_Smile._

Those golden eyes lit up so suddenly that they appeared to me as two stars, two golden stars.

He let out a long melodic sigh in what I could only guess was relief, his lips forming my name, yet nothing came out. He tried again,

"_Christine…"_

Fighting back tears, I lowered my hood and ran to him, clutching the cage bars, my smile never faltering.

"Erik! I missed you so much, why didn't you come back last year?" I asked as he moved closer to me…or as close as he could, being as how the cage was in the way. He looked at me an extremely long time without saying anything. The look in his onyx eyes was unreadable, he looked…shocked, or confused for some reason. Yet, the moment I really seemed to look into it, it vanished, replaced with a glowing happiness.

"_I do not know, there were more patrons I suppose…"_

As he spoke, I noticed a rather odd looking white scar on his stomach, I wondered how he had gotten it, for I could not recall seeing it the last time he was here, my worse thought was that someone had stabbed him…but they weren't that cruel…were they? No! I could not imagine someone stabbing Erik, what a horrible thing to do just because of what he looks like…His face may be repulsive on the right side, but his voice and soul seemed to be pure. However, I could not say for certain because I hardly knew the man.

"_I can't believe it's you, Christine…"_

I felt his hand on my cheek and my thoughts shattered as I looked up at him, true happiness written in his eyes. Erik seemed to continue studying my features, his hand remaining on my cheek. Distantly, I recalled the time he had gotten dirt on my face the last time he touched it. My smile grew at the memory.

I heard him mutter something, but I did not catch it, though I thought I heard the word, 'beautiful'.

"Pardon?" I asked softly, a smirk tugging at my lips.

He shook his head.

"_I said nothing…"_

Smirking, I nodded.

"Oh really? Because I could have _sworn_ I heard you say _something_…"

Erik regarded me with his amber stare again. Both of us remained that way for a minute before he chuckled softly and said,

"_I said you have grown even more beautiful than the last time I saw you…Nothing can get past you, can it, Christine?"_

Laughing I merely shrugged and blushed, trying not to be too flattered by his comment.

"No…I am just not deaf that's all…my father, however, he used to say that I was as blind as a bat when it came to seeing things that were right in front of me…"

He raised his only eyebrow and looked at me curiously,

"_Used to?"_

With a sigh, I nodded my head, trying to hold back tears that seemed to want to automatically fall whenever my father was mentioned. I had to close my eyes for a moment, but opened them quickly…I didn't want to have to relive his death again yet…that would happen later tonight. Dropping my gaze to the ground, I finally answered,

"My father died a little over two years ago…"

When I looked up, I thought I saw a knowing glint in his eyes before it quickly melted away to concern.

"_I am so sorry Christine, you and your father didn't deserve that…"_

I closed my eyes tightly again, trying to block out what he had just said and before I could stop myself, I found myself speaking words I did not mean to say out loud.

"Please do NOT pity me! I am so sick of other peoples' pity and their sadness."

I couldn't believe I had just yelled at Erik like that! Quickly, I covered my mouth, dropping my gaze the ground, hating myself for what I had said. But, it was true; it seemed that if another person was to pity my loss, I would completely snap and do God only knows what.

"I-I'm sorry I didn-"

Suddenly, I felt the cold hand that was on my cheek moved my hands away from my mouth and take my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

"_Do not apologize, Christine, you did nothing wrong…I know _exactly_ how you feel…"_

I couldn't find it in myself to look away or disagree. For some reason, I knew what Erik said was true…Although I couldn't think of anyone who would pity him…except for me…I swallowed hard in my throat, knowing that I had pitied him in the past as well.

"Okay, Erik," I said softly, not allowing my tears to fall.

_**Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik**_

I couldn't believe it…she was actually here…I had been right, she _did _return, but I had not expected her to miss me…no one ever missed me. It was such a new feeling to finally know that someone cared…I couldn't quite comprehend what to make of it. The feeling scared me in a way, for I did not know what it was, yet in others, it was a relief to have such a feeling in my heart. It was warm…and it felt…nice. I wasn't sure if it was a sin or not, but I quite enjoyed the feeling. It was so much better than the cold and distant void I had felt since I was old enough to know what those feelings were. Christine triggered a new type of feeling within me. It was like I was no longer alone anymore, I finally had someone who cared and understood me, even though she was clearly much more pure and beautiful than I.

I didn't think she realizes it, but Christine has an incredible power over people and their actions. She could make the most violent madman be as gentle as a lamb.

Speaking of madmen…I began to wonder if it was at all possible for her to change Buquet, my tormentor. Her first stand up to his injustice had not done much, but she had at least caused him to hesitate long enough for the show to be over. I wasn't entirely sure, but I wondered if Buquet would ever change. It seemed impossible, for I had always looked at him as the all powerful man that everyone feared. And yet, with Christine, it did not seem the case. The only thing she really seemed to fear was my safety while she was away from me. My gratitude for her would be forever growing and would always remain.

I had felt badly about her father; I knew there was no escape, though…not for cases like this. Silently, I wondered how much his death had changed Christine. She seemed to be a bit more distant in the eyes, but she still managed to smile and carry herself with a simple grace that proved to the entire world how well-mannered she was. I knew that when he was alive, she had made her father proud.

The only thing that really surprised me about her was how she almost immediately pushed aside my sympathy and pity. I never expected that from someone of her age. Any young girl her age would love attention, even if it meant throwing the death of a loved one in someone's face. Christine was so different…she was truly a gem.

"_Okay, Erik."_

Her voice caused me to break from my thoughts and look up at her.

Just then, she moved her hands to clutch the cage bars again. I found that I could not turn away from her left hand. It wasn't its pale and delicate features that attracted my attention, but the dark, red stain on one of the sleeves. She was hurt? It had to be blood…

"What's happened?" asked I, pointing at her stained sleeve.

Christine looked down to where I was pointing and blushed, covering her hand more with her blood-stained sleeve.

Without giving much thought, I reached down and took her hand, pulling back her sleeve.

As I studied her hand, I didn't see any wound at first, but as I looked closer, I was able to see a rather jagged puncture on her index finger. It didn't seem like much, but still, my interest was intrigued and I looked quizzically up at her, my only eyebrow raised.

She gently pulled her hand from my grasp, pulling her sleeve over it, before meeting my gaze and taking an intake of breath, obviously about to answer me.

"_I was sewing and my friend, trying to get my attention, yanked on my hand that held the needle, which caused me to stick it into my finger…"_

I gave a single nod of the head before taking her hand and bringing it towards my face. Without really planning it, or knowing what I was doing, I brought the single digit to my lips and kissed it lightly. I marveled how cool and smoother her finger felt against my lips before I finally released. I wasn't really sure why I had so uncharacteristically done that to her….perhaps it was for a comforting gesture? Either way, I knew for sure I was going to Hell for even touching her.

When finally I brought my eyes to her, I found that she had her eyes closed and she was smiling pleasantly. She stayed that way for a while and I wondered why my disgusting action could actually result in…_this._

When at last she opened her eyes, Christine noticed that I was staring intently at her and she blushed adorably before whispering,

"_My father used to do that whenever I got hurt…" _

For some reason, I found myself smiling. Perhaps it was because I had brought her joy, or maybe I had made her feel better, I wasn't really sure, but I was glad that she didn't cry. I hated to see her cry so.

Just then, I remembered that Christine shouldn't be here at this time…if she were to get caught…No she wouldn't, but there was not much I would be able to do if such a thing happened to her, however, I decided not to dwell on that…it was not about to happen, for I was about to send the child off.

"Christine…shouldn't you be getting back?"

Immediately, a stubborn flare appeared into her large, blue eyes.

"_Erik, I am just fine here…"_ she said, tilting her chin up slightly

I shook my head, staring at her.

"No you're not…I would very much like you to be able to get out safely while you still can…then come back when the show is over."

She looked like she was about to protest, but she agreed eventually and started backing up.

_"I will come back, Erik,"_ she whispered and I smiled…

Christine's promises had not failed me yet.

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) ****They're finally together again…woot.**

**Please review, it always encourage me to write more and keep going.**

**Well until next update…**

**-Il Fantasma**


	8. An Unspoken Bond?

**Back again with another update!  
****I AM SOOOO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT. It is just that I have been in school and just recently finished my final exams for this term. And I also have been really busy with personal issues in my life as well…anywhoo I am very sorry and I guarantee you will never have to wait that long for an update again.…Trust me when I say I am doing the best I can. I really like where this story is going and am not about to quit it, for it is probably one of my most favorite works that I have ever worked on…even though this is the first story I have ever written on fanfiction. Well, that is about it….**

**Happy Reading!**

"Where have you been?" Antoinette's disapproving voice rang in my ears as I walked up towards the bakery with her standing at the entrance, her hands on her hips. Uh oh, I didn't think about the outcome of my little 'visit' to the circus…Judging by the way Antoinette's eyebrows were knitted together, I was in a lot of trouble. I decided that I should look her directly in the eye instead of at my feet; I was so tired of being looked down upon by other people.

Her scowl deepened as I made my way closer towards her.

When finally I had made it to the entrance, I tilted my chin up and stared her in the eye before finally answering her question.

"I went to go see a friend of mine…"

Again, her brows furrowed even more, making me wonder if she would get worry lines if she kept doing that.

"Without asking my permission?" she asked, continuing to attempt to pry the information out of me. She should know by now that no matter what she did, I was not about to tell her that I was at a repulsive and violent gypsy circus where people swallowed knives and juggled fire as well as other dangerous stunts. If she knew, she would be mortified…No, I would just have to tell her a lie, which was something I did not enjoy doing, but it kept me out of trouble…I just hope that God and my parents could forgive me of my sin.

"It wasn't that far," I answered, "I had heard that Raoul was in town and I ran out looking for him to see if he was around. It turned out that it was just a rumor. I am sorry that I did not ask you permission, I had just really wanted to see him…I haven't since…well…you know…."

I did not fail to notice how almost immediately Antoinette's sharp gaze seemed to soften and I felt her hand on my shoulder. I could never deny how guilty I felt right there at the moment…I had just used my dear friend, Raoul…_and_ my father's death to tell a tale that was not true just so _I_ would not get into trouble…

_It's different,_ a voice seemed to say in my head, _you get to be with Erik, who needs you more than anything…Your father would want you to look after him no matter what…he _is _your Angel of Music after all…_

Agreeing silently with the little voice, I followed Antoinette back into the bakery where I was bombarded with an angry Meg.

"Where were you!? I was terribly bored!"

I merely shrugged and sat down at my chair, noticing that my sewing equipment was still on the floor where I had dropped it earlier.

"Oh very nice, Meg, you don't even pick up my handkerchief in the making?" I asked, getting up and picking it up myself.

Meg laughed and stuck out her tongue.

"Well, it was _your _mess…" she said, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her nose up in the air.

Shrugging again, I just sat back down with my equipment and began to sew again. I really liked how my handkerchief was turning out. It was white with a dark green lining around it and the design of an angel with a harp and a dark green robe, matching the lining, in the middle. Of course I did not make the angel….Antoinette did that for me, but I was working on the lining, which was coming out surprisingly neat. I wrinkled my nose, however, when I spotted a small blood stain towards the bottom right corner. I sighed…there was no way I could get it out without ruining it…Oh well, one could really only see it if they looked hard enough.

I eyed my punctured finger in frustration and whispered angrily to it,

"Darn you! You look what you did to my handkerchief…I had worked so hard on it too…"

Muttering under my breath in frustration, I set back to work on my creation, hoping nothing else would go wrong that would result with me messing it up even more. This was my first real sewing project, and I was determined for it to turn out alright, blood stain or no blood stain…

As soon as I pushed the needle through the cloth, I was immediately sucked into a world that was all my own, completely oblivious to what was going on around me, all that I could see was the silver of the needle, the white of the cloth, and a pair of smoldering golden eyes that seemed to sear me to ash.

_**Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik**_

"This is what hell on earth looks like!"

The rattling voice of Buquet announced, as he lead in a bunch of people…too many it seemed…I couldn't remember seeing that many people at once to come and observe me. Why come here when they could go find themselves a splendid opera?

As usual, they gawked, gasped, and pointed at me, as if I were some obscene sculpture that was soulless, mindless, and didn't give a damn what people said about it. Never once did they believe that I was at all human with any type emotion or feeling…No, all they could see was the what appeared to be half of Death's head on the right side of my face.

Loose, baggy, gray-yellow skin, hung off of revealed skull tissue.

An uneven, sagging eye socket that held an unusual eye of gold.

Barely any nose at all, only on my left side was there one, but on my right…it was mainly a gaping socket with a little rise to it.

I knew this was what I looked like…how could I not? When I was but a small boy, my dear mother never failed to show me why I was never shown affection to…And even after I was abandoned, any woman I went up to would throw their mirror at me, reminding me my place in the world, and run away with fear and disgust written obviously in their eyes. That was when I began to grow self-hatred.

There was a time that I hated myself so much with a passion, that I made my face worse. I would see my reflection in a store window, or in puddles on the cobblestone streets and I would start to rip and tear at the skin on the right side of my face, cursing myself for being so repulsive…making the distortion much worse that it already was…putting hatred and violence into it. Music was what had awakened me…music was what saved me…music was the reason why I was here, in this cage... Because of my foolish attempt at being counted as an equal.

Buquet was suddenly behind me, with his whip drawn…I hadn't even heard him come in…As I looked up at the many faces surrounding me, I noticed, as usual, how _distorted _they all looked as well…Their ugly souls shining through the mask of their 'pretty faces' if only for a moment. Everyone has a darker side to them…and these people were showing it at me…no one else…and it was because of how I looked. There may be little good in darkness…but there was no good in _my_ darkness…

The swing of the whip filled my ears, followed by the laughter of the audience as the rope of leather was cruelly laid across my back in the most painful way. Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes, the screech of the crowd and the swinging of the whip growing fainter.

_It would all be over soon…It would all be over soon…_

**

* * *

**

When next I opened my eyes, the crowed was gone and Buquet was leering at me through the other side of the cage, his shattered, yellow teeth glimmering in the torch light.

With a snort, he left me, waltzing out of the tent like he owned the place, which actually he did, but he did _not _own me…I may be an attraction, and I may be the ugliest man there is and will be, but I was still my own person.

I took time to see the damage that had been done to my body. It was not very pleasant…The gashes on my back were very deep this time, and my face was covered in a thick, sticky liquid that I only assumed was blood. As I brought my hand to my head, I discovered a gash close to my forehead on my right side. My tormentor must have kicked me…

All of the strikes were the same and just as painful, that after a very short amount of time, I could not tell which strike was which and where it was taking place on my body. The tunic I had been given to wear two years prior had been torn long ago, leaving me bare to the cold once more, but I was well used to it…the temperature was nothing compared to the life of coldness I have lead for these long twenty-three years.

Besides music, there has only ever been one joy in my life and she was making her way into my tent unseen and unheard at this very moment.

"_Hello,"_ she said simply, as if I were just a friend whom she would visit on a daily basis…the more I thought about, the more it actually seemed to make sense.

"Good evening," I replied as she came towards the cage, handing me a loaf of that soft bread that always tasted so wonderful. I smiled at her generosity and thoughtfulness. Nothing would ever describe the gratitude I felt for this small girl who just seemed to shine into my life of darkness like a burst of a thousand rays of light.

Unwrapping and breaking the bread, I took a small bite and closed my eyes for a moment, relishing the feeling of _soft_ food inside my mouth. When finally I opened my eyes, they immediately fell onto Christine.

"Thank you," I said softly as she took the hip flask from around her and handed it to me. Through this entire action, I did not fail to notice that she seemed to keep one hand hidden behind her back. I gratefully took the flask and drank from it, not questioning her strange actions. Christine always had her reasons and I wondered what she had up her sleeve now…literally.

"_Erik- will you teach me to sing again?" _she asked softly, still keeping her left hand hidden from my view.

Smirking, I straightened up and looked at her.

"If you show me what you are hiding…" I said, eyeing her concealed hand.

Surprisingly, Christine smirked as well, but not at all in a smug way, more of an 'I know something you do not' kind of look.

"_I will…but later on…" _said she_, "The lesson, Erik?"_

I laughed; I was right when I said nothing got past her.

"If you insist, Mademoiselle Daaé."

Her smirk turned into that joyful grin that I loved to see so much on her pretty little face.

"_You know I do…Monsieur…" _she said, throwing the formalities back at me, I realized that she did not know my last name; she did not know what to call me formally. Of course I knew my last name, but I chose to keep the thought far off in the corner of my mind.

_Destler._

It angered me to think that that was once apart of my name before my mother abandoned me, stripping me of the name that was just as rightfully mine as it was hers.

"Are you ready to start, Christine?" I asked, realizing my fists were clenched.

Christine seemed to sense my tension, for she tilted her head to one side.

"_I am always ready, maestro," _she whispered.

Her brow seemed to furrow for a moment as she studied my face. I fought the urge to shield myself from her gaze.

_Yes, I know my face is repulsive, my dear, you don't need to stare as all others do to get the point across._

Suddenly, she thrust her hand that was behind her back towards my face, something dark green and white dangling from her fingers.

"_I can't wait any longer…, I had made this for you…and I thought that perhaps having all of that blood and dirt on your face must be quite uncomfortable…So, here…"_ she said, taking me completely off guard as she gently took the half empty flask from my hand and poured a little bit of it onto the white cloth that she had so conveniently made for me. It was hard to see what it was, being as how dark it was, but I assumed it was a handkerchief. Before I knew what was going on, I felt a soft sensation glide up and down the right of my face, moping up the dried blood and dirt that I had chosen to ignore for the present, even if it did itch from time to time.

When Christine was finally done, she pulled back and took my hand, placing the gift there and closing my hand.

I was completely shocked; I sat there for a very long time it seemed with my mouth half opened. Never, never did I ever expect Christine to go to the trouble of making me something…She made something for me…_for me_! _Erik_! _Le Mort Vivant_! The _Devil's Child_! She had made _me_ something for _my _own benefit…I could not believe it….never had I been treated with such kindness before…

I closed my eyes for a moment, knowing that a smile was obviously written on my face, expressing my joy and gratitude.

When finally I opened my eyes, I was met with a pair of blue, wide orbs looking anxiously at me. I looked down again at the handkerchief, finally being able to take in its detail. It was pure white…well it used to be before it was covered in the blood and dirt that had been on my face. There was something in the middle of the cloth and Christine noticed how I strained my eyes to see it.

"_It's an angel…"_ she whispered as I cleared the blood away.

I found myself smiling even more.

"Why am I not surprised…?" I replied, being able to make out the angel's golden hair and dark green robe.

Christine said nothing, but just watched as I observed her handkerchief.

"It is marvelous, Christine, a piece of work that I am very much surprised to see from a ten year old…" I said, hoping to earn a smile from her.

What surprised me was she didn't smile, but merely cocked her head to the side and gazed at me thoughtfully.

"_I am not your average ten year old…"_ she stated matter-of-factly, tilting her chin slightly.

I smirked and nodded.

"I believe that, Christine."

_That_ earned me a smile.

"_Some people don't…."_ she whispered, her eyes focusing back on the handkerchief.

My hand found its way to her shoulder.

"Well, they are blind…."

Her eyes drifted back to mine and we held a very understanding gaze. It was where we both knew without words what the other was saying.

Christine and I just had a special bond that way.

The corners of her little pink lips turned upward a little bit more and her radiant smile seemed to light up the entire tent. It still made me wonder everyday how I deserved a smile like that.

Suddenly, her hand was one my twisted cheek.

"_Yes, Erik….some people are very blind."_

"Christine…."

That smile again.

"_You do not have to say anything, Erik,"_ she said, removing her hand from my cheek.

Soon, I found myself smiling, unable to really say anything in return. I knew that Christine and I didn't have to say something to just enjoy being around each other, just her presence made me feel happier then I had ever been in my life…I did not know why, perhaps it was just the sense of a light shining in my darkness.

"_Erik…do you still want to teach me…?"_ she asked, looking hopefully at me. I realized we had stalled the lesson for a very long time.

"Do you still want to learn…?" asked I as she slowly began to smile like a glowing star…she would be a star one day…I didn't know how I would do it…but I would make sure she became a star…

Not much can a man do in a cage…however…

"_Of course,_ _mon Ange de la Musique!" _Christine exclaimed, beside herself with excitement.

I smiled for two reasons.

On being that she called me an angel…even though I was the furthest thing from it…

And, also, she was acting like the child she really was…Her father's death had really matured her into acting way beyond her years. It mattered naught, I accepted Christine for who she was; just like how she accepted me over my hideousness. It was one of our many unspoken bonds.

However, there was only one reason why I was hesitant to carry on our lesson…and he was making his way into the tent that very minute…

Christine gasped and ducked into a dark corner and I immediately tried to hide the hip flask by sitting on it.

For a few moments, I felt as if my heart dropped to my stomach, but Buquet seemed to have the same stupid, blank look on his waxy face.

My tormentor did not acknowledge me at first, but seemed to just be examining the top of the tent. After a moment, he spoke, his eyes still on the top of the tent.

"I thought I heard…voices…" he said, scratching his chin.

"Do you have any idea, wretch?"

"Perhaps one too many drinks?" I asked, glaring at him angrily.

"You would say that…but, no…it seemed like a little…girl…was in here…talking to you…"

"Well, aren't you observant," I sneered, "There has been no one in here other than myself; this I can assure you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I looked over at the spot that Christine was hiding. Her dark cloak helped her blend into the shadows, for I could not see her, but I was still not entirely sure if she would be found or not.

Buquet chuckled and finally his eyes fell on me, as mine did on his. I made sure that I was not looking over in Christine's direction, for fear that Buquet would figure out where she was…but I could not give him too much credit after all…he wasn't…. the brightest…

"No. I know I heard voices this time…Maybe I should put someone on guard at the front and back of the tent…" Buquet thought out loud.

That angered me.

"I don't need a babysitter," I said, clenching my teeth.

A chuckle was his answer.

"If I can recall…maybe…oh what was it, two years ago? Yeah. You almost killed me and yourself…"

I rolled my eyes, knowing that Buquet would not assign guards because he was too lazy and too forgetful.

"I do not care, I wish no more to speak with you," said I as I turned around, presenting him my scarred back, but still making sure that the hip flask was was hidden.

Silently, I hoped that I had changed the subject and tricked Buquet into thinking he had just come in here to talk to me…

To my great surprise and relief, it worked.

He did a mock bow and sneered at me.

"As you wish, your highness, we will 'talk' more tomorrow night…but I think my whip will do must of the talking," he cackled, making his way out of the tent.

"_What an awful man!"_ Christine's upset voice exclaimed as she came out of hiding.

I laughed softly and turned around to look at her.

"You should see him with a whip…"

Her expression did not change.

"_I already have,"_ she said, her voice sounding strained.

It was then when I had a flashback of when she and I first met….

* * *

"_Does it hurt…?"_

"_Sometimes."_

"_What about this side?...Handsome"_

* * *

Again, small smile spread across my face…I noticed how I always seemed to smile the most when she was with me.

"_What are you thinking about, Erik?" _Her sudden question caused my thoughts to break and look at her, truly appreciating that she was with me.

"The first time that I met you…"

Christine smiled too and said something I will never forget.

"I'm really glad I met you, Erik."

Nothing could ever describe the emotion that passed through me when she said that. I felt a huge lump form in my throat.

It took me a very long time before I could actually speak again. And, Christine waited, patiently.

"As am I _mon ange_…" I whispered softly, feeling the tears crinkling at the corner of my eyes…but I held them back.

After a moment, Christine spoke.

"_Is there still going to be a lesson…Erik?"_

I thought for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea. Buquet was getting…sharper…surprisingly and unfortunately….

"Are you sure you still want to continue...?"

She shrugged playfully and giggled.

"_What is the worst thing that can happen?"_

**NEXT CHAPTER ON THE WAY:) **


	9. The Worst Thing That Can Happen

**Uh-Oh…**

I inwardly winced at Christine's question, hopefully, the worst would _not_ happen…

"Well, it has been two years, so why do you not sing for me and see if you remember what I previously taught you," said I as Christine nodded her head and took a breath, surprising me as she got in the very position that I had told her to be in before…This proved to me that she had been practicing, even when I was not there to teach and encourage her. Her voice interrupted my thoughts completely as she began to sing.

"_Think of me,_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye…_

_Remember me_

_Once in a while…_

_Promise you'll try…"_

She stopped for a moment, looking at me, wondering if it was alright for her to go on; I nodded my approval for her to continue, I was too shocked to have her stop now.

"_When you find_

_That once again_

_You long_

_To take your heart back_

_And be free…"_

A big smile graced her face as she sang out completely, her heart and soul shining through her voice.

"_If you ever find a moment…_

_Spare a thought for me…"_

I couldn't believe it; she remembered everything I had ever taught her…and sounded far beyond her years.

It didn't seem real. How could she have done that? Unless…she had continued getting lessons…

I would not deny that I felt a stab of jealousy at that thought. She had asked _me_ to give her lessons, not anyone else.

However, before I decided to jump to conclusions, I realized I should ask Christine how she managed to have such an amazing, awe-worthy voice.

"Christine…how-?"

"_I practiced every day since we parted, and I thought of you every time I sang that song,"_

Time froze. That was the only way I could describe what happened…time just stopped, as well as my heart it seemed. She cared about me! She really cared about me. I always knew that I was considered a friend of hers, but it was now that I realized, she truly saw me as someone of real meaning in her life…to her, I wasn't just 'that unfortunate ugly man locked in a cage', I was someone who she cared about and played a major roll in her life. But, the funny thing is…She hardly saw me and I rarely saw her, and yet, we both appreciate each other as much as any good friends would.

_"Erik?" _I heard Christine's voice pry, concern swimming in her tone.

I realized that I had been staring constantly into her eyes and not noticing it; looking without seeing.

"Your voice, Christine, let me hear your voice again…sing…sing my angel of music…sing for me…"

She looked at me curiously at first, but obliged to my request, singing the same verse again…it was the only one she knew how to sing like that on, after all. As that glorious little voice filled the tent again, I found myself closing my eyes. Her voice had so much potential! Of course she needed time for it to mature; she had a long way to go before that voice could even be considered operatic, but what she had was a start…and I was willing to work with her until she turned into the prima donna she was destined to become. During my musing, I failed to notice how silent it suddenly was… she had stopped half way through the song. At this, I wondered why and I opened my eyes.

What I saw made me want to quickly close them again…and pretend that that was just an illusion….

_**Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine**_

I could not believe the joy I had brought Erik as I sang! The serene look that over came his features…the way he closed his eyes and slightly tilted his head back. It took me time to realize that it was I who caused this calm nature to break through Erik. It encouraged him to let his guard down…if only just for moment…he broke down his barriers that always made him appear so brave and compassionate, only to reveal the little child inside who just wanted someone to love him. I smiled when I saw this and began singing louder and with more heart…just like Erik said I should. However, I failed to notice a stirring behind me at the tent entrance until it was too late…

Suddenly, I was surrounded by the reeking stench of blood and sweat as two greasy, hairy, and surprisingly strong arms came around me, one crushing my waist while the other covered my mouth to keep me from screaming. Though, screaming had not even been my first thought, what first came across my mind was the thought, _'Oh God, I am going to die, my life has barely begun and yet, here I am about to die…I'll be with you soon, Papa...'_

A graveled voice with rotted breath whispered in my ear,

"Let us see how long it takes for your _'Erik'_ to realize what's going on, the stupid bastard. If you scream, wench, I'll kill you…"

_Buquet._

I knew that man…it was the very person Erik told me to be wary of. Oh how much of a fool I was! Erik had clearly stated that it was not safe to have a lesson because we might get caught and because of the selfish child I was, I insisted that we have one. Please do not hate me. Erik…don't open your eyes.

They began to flutter.

_Please, Erik._

Slowly they opened

_No, Erik._

Confusion at first.

_Please, Erik._

Realization.

_I'm sorry, Erik._

Shock.

_Forgive me, Erik._

Our eyes remained locked; I knew tears were pouring down mine and onto the slimy hand that covered my mouth. Buquet was laughing, but neither of us paid him any mind. Erik closed his eyes again for a moment and when he opened them, I gasped. Blind rage was glistening like a flaming torch in those golden depths. It was then that I knew what I had to do.

Without giving much thought on what the outcome would be, I bit down on Buquet's hand as hard as I could, ignoring the rotten and sour taste that filled my mouth. Buquet gave a howl of pain and pushed me away from him. I felt myself tumble foreword until my body hit the cage before me, causing blood to fill my mouth. I grimaced when I realized I had bitten through my tongue.

Ignoring the pounding headache, I tilted my head up in order to look for Erik. At first I did not see him until I looked partially to my left and saw him trying desperately to undo the lock on the door with his own fingers.

"_Christine! Run!"_

I tried to do exactly that, but, as soon as I gained my footing and was about to take off, a felt a strong, death gripping hand grab my wrist, crushing my delicate skin beneath it. I sank my teeth into my lip to keep myself from screaming. Tears of pain were already making their way down my cheeks. Not really caring about how big he was compared to me, I tried to fight back, kicking his shins as hard as I could. My reward from this outcome was the back of his hand flying across my face with a loud snapping sound that caused Erik to scream with rage.

"_HOW __**DARE**__ YOU TOUCH HER? HOW __**DARE**__ YOU HARM HER? I WILL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD; I WILL MAKE SURE YOU BURN IN HELL WHERE YOU BELONG!!!"_

I felt myself once again fly foreword because of the force from the blow, banging my head against the corner of the cage, Buquet's laughter in my ears. And, even though I tried to keep it from happening, a sob escaped from me. I heard Erik's voice again, heart break in it.

"_Christine, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…please, Buquet, don't harm her! I'll do anything; I will be a dog at your feet. Please! Just don't harm my Angel!"_

Buquet had me in his arms again and he let out a snort at what Erik had said.

"Your _Angel _eh? You think that changes anything? Maybe I should just go ahead and make her a_ real_ angel…"

He pushed me from him again and once more I was met with the harshness of the cage. I suddenly felt something wet, warm, and sticky trickle down my forehead.

"Angels don't bleed…" Buquet mocked.

I knew now that even if I wanted to, I could not run. I could hardly see anything. I could feel Erik shaking the cage, trying so hard to free himself. I could hear Buquet laughing as he approached me again. I could hear my own heart beating in my ears. I closed my eyes.

Buquet's laughter stopped suddenly, as did Erik's clanging; my heart still continued beating, however. Soon, that slowed down a little too.

It was when I heard chocking sounds that I finally opened my eyes. My heart jumped into my throat.

Erik had somehow freed himself and had wrapped his hands around Buquet's thick neck in a death grip. Buquet's face was steadily growing bluer as his eyes bulged bigger. He tried desperately to fight Erik off, but my maestro held strong.

At first I was glad that Buquet was dying, but soon I realized that if Erik was successful in killing him, it would turn him into a murderer and it would make him as much as a monster as Buquet. I could not bare that!

"Erik! Stop! Don't do this…I know what you are thinking, I know what you feel, but please! It will make you just as bad as he is! Don't kill him…please…even if he deserves to die…You do not deserve to be condemned…"

I wondered if Erik heard me, but soon I realized that steadily, his look of rage was softening and his grip was loosening on Buquet's throat. For a while, he seemed to have an internal conflict going on in his head, no doubt remember all of the foul and wicked things Buquet had done to him, but finally, he seemed to understand.

"_You're right, Christine..." _he said softly before throwing Buquet aside, leaving him to gag and retch on the floor, trying to catch his breath. Without a word, Erik picked me up in his arms and in fluid movements, stood and started heading for the tent entrance.

For a moment, I thought we were going to be free. I felt safe and wrapped my arms securely around Erik's neck, knowing that he would not let anything harm me.

But, my happy thoughts were short-lived when suddenly a voice rasped,

"I don't think so…"

In unison, Erik and I both turned our heads to see Buquet limping awkwardly, a torch in his hand. It seemed to happen in slow motion as he threw that flame in our direction. I screamed and buried my face in Erik's shoulder. If he died, I knew I would too. And vise versa. We needed each other. But, the flames never came; instead, I felt the cool night air on my blood in-crusted hair. When I dared lift my head, I gasped to see the entire tent engulfed in the flames. Erik still ran on, his only focus was saving our lives.

The roaring of the flames was deafening, but not nearly as Buquet's surprisingly strong voice, being as how he had just been nearly chocked to death, scream out into the night:

"MUDERER! LE MORT VIVANT HAS ESCAPED AND HE HAS BEATEN AND CAPTURED AN INNOCENT CHILD! CALL THE POLICE, DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE!!!!"

All around us, people were emerging from their tents, and we were surrounded by madness as they ran around us or towards us to stop Erik. I noticed some heading off towards town to get the police.

A few men were chasing us as Erik continued running. They were shouting rather crude things at him and were steadily gaining. Erik stopped without warning and caused them to sail past him. He was already going to the left by the time the others managed to turn and realize what had happened.

As we made our way through the grounds, cobblestones finally came in contact with Erik's bare feet. We were getting closer into the city. I wondered for a moment if Erik even knew where he was taking me, but decided not to question him. Neither of us said anything as Erik continued on. The only sounds were the yelling of the police giving each other orders and Erik's breathing as he ran, trying to get us to safety.

I buried my face in his shoulder again and closed my eyes. So many things were rushing through my head; I did not know what to think about. The only real thought that stayed constant was that Erik was finally free, after God only knew how many years of torture; he was finally free of anyone ever harming him again.

After what seemed like hours, I finally felt him begin to slow down and then finally stop all together.

"Christine?" he whispered softly, unsure if I was awake or not.

I lifted my head.

"I'm here, Erik…" I said, looking into his hideous, yet at the same time, beautiful face.

He gave a sudden sob and held me close; I could feel tears hitting the top of my head softly.

"Oh Christine, I thought you were going to die. I am so sorry. Look at you. Oh, this is my entire fault…" he moaned, pressing his forehead into my hair.

"Erik, it is not your fault," I said, feeling my own tears form again, "I was the one who wanted a lesson so badly…But, let's not continue fighting on whose fault it was…All that matters is that we are now safe and we have each other."

Erik nodded.

"You take that way; I'll go left…We'll catch that Demon!"

I could feel my eyes widen. We still were not safe.

"This way, I brought us here for a reason," Erik said, lifting a stain glass window open with his free arm, and jumped inside, taking care not to drop me. Quickly, he turned and closed the window with one arm before wrapping it securely around me again.

It was so dark, I could hardly see anything, but I couldn't say the same for Erik. He seemed to know exactly where we were.

Eventually, my eyes got used to the dark, and as I squinted, I was able to make the realization that we were in a chapel of some sort. I knew we weren't in a church…it was too far away from the circus. Erik would still be running if that was his ideal destination. If it wasn't a church…then where were we?

"Erik…where are we?" I asked, voicing my thoughts.

For moment, he just went on looking around the area, his golden eyes glowing in the dark like two bright stars. Finally he answered me, his voice a heavy accent in the silence.

"We are in the chapel beneath the Opera Garnier; I believe we are safe here for now."

He set me down on the little step by the window, bathing me in moonlight. When I looked up at his face, I noticed how he managed to keep the distorted side of his face in the shadows while his flawless side was illuminated in the moonlight.

"Erik…how did you know to come here? How did you know what this place was?" I asked him, wondering what his intentions and reasons were.

Erik merely shushed me by placing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"There will be time for questions later, _mon petit ange_, now there are more important matters that are concerned. Are you hurt?

I tried to shake my head, but winced when something clicked in my neck. I reached up a hand to my head and remembered that I had been bleeding. My hair felt hard and crusted and as I looked down at my wrist, I saw a purple bruise beginning to form; I knew the same could be said for my cheek where Buquet had struck me. I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to sound like a pitiful child either.

"I'm okay, Erik," I said.

I saw him shake his head as he bent down to take my chin in his hand. He ran his long, pale fingers over my bruised cheek and I winced at how it stung.

"Oh, Christine…" he whispered, pulling me close and holding me against him. Slowly, he started rocking me back and forth. We remained that way for a very long time, the silence, for once, was welcoming.

Too soon, it seemed, our little haven of silence was shattered when Erik finally set me back down on the step again.

"I must get you back…" he whispered, glancing up at the window where we had come.

"No, Erik," I said, "I'll get myself back…if they find you, they'll kill you, "I know where I live from here, it won't be any problem."

"But, if Buquet-"

"Buquet will not find me, I'll stay swift and fast and hidden in the shadows…"

"Christine-"

"I can do this Erik! I promise," I stated firmly.

After a moment of Erik thinking it over in his head, he finally succumbed to what would be the easiest way. He nodded his head.

"Alright, Christine, but, please stay here until the danger has settled down…"

"But, Erik…Antoinette will kill me…" I said, suddenly remembering that I had a family outside all of this.

He chuckled.

"Just tell her the truth…you were held captive by a deformed monster…"

At this, I gasped. How could Erik say that about himself!

"No Erik! You and I both know that that is not true…"

Erik shook his head, but said no more about it.

"Please, just stay here until everything calms down…to pass the time, we'll make up stories that we can tell your guardian," he said, stroking my good cheek.

I gave in and nodded.

"Alright, Erik, that does seem like the best idea…"

He nodded once more and smiled.

Pulling me close again, he began to sing softly, I recognized the song as Ave Maria…

"_Ave Maria…" _he began, starting to rock back and forth, I closed my eyes and laid my head against his chest, for a moment, I wondered how he knew the song, but decided that that would be a question I would ask him later, along with may others,_ "Gratia plena…Maria, gratia plena…Maria, gratia plena…" _

Soon, I had the sense that I was floating. Floating on the endless tide. Back and forth…back and forth… 

"_Ave, ave dominus…"_

I heard no more…soon my entire world went black, Erik's angelic voice sending me to a world that was entirely my own…

_**Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik**_

I held on to the sleeping angel in my arms as tightly as I could.

During her time of slumber, I really got a chance to ponder on what had recently occurred in the past few hours. I was free. But, at the same time, I was not. Society knew me now as the deformed monster that kidnapped innocent children. I would have to remain hidden. I knew I would eventually have to tell Christine, but not now. All I wanted was for her to sleep peacefully and let her believe, if only for a moment, that something was actually going right in her life.

The commotion outside had stopped over an hour ago, but I had no intentions of waking the angel that changed my life for the better. I decided to savor what time I had with her, for I did not know if I would ever see her again after tonight. With her guardian realizing that she had been 'kidnapped', they would want to move her some place safe as soon as they could. I wouldn't blame them either.

I looked down at Christine again and moved a lock of her hair away from her bruised cheek. I knew that eventually I was going to kill Buquet for what he did. No matter what Christine said. He deserved the flames of Hell more than anyone else in this world. How could he harm such a treasure? I would make him pay. Perhaps not now, but someday…

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a sound come from the sleeping Christine. Slowly, her eyelids began to flutter until finally they opened and blue met gold.

She blinked a few times, confusion more than apparent in her features, but soon she remembered what all had occurred, and she smiled up at me.

"You're free…" she whispered softly.

Smiling, I nodded, stroking her good cheek.

She looked up at the window and then turned back to look at me.

"I need to get back…everything has calmed down..." she said, attempting to remove herself from my arms. I held her fast.

"Christine…" I paused for a moment, now would be the time to tell her my intentions for the rest of my life, finally I spoke again, "I must disappear…and you must leave here…"

"What?" she asked, looking hurt, confused, and heartbroken.

"Your guardian will want to move as soon as you return…after learning that you were the one who was kidnapped…Society will not accept me now that this has happened. I must disappear from everyone and start my life anew…again…"

Christine closed her eyes.

After a moment, when she did not open them, I began to grow concerned…

"Christine…" I gave her little body a small shake.

She opened her eyes so suddenly that I almost jumped.

"I understand, Erik…will I ever see you again…?" she asked, taking it rather well.

At this, I was not sure what I should say to answer her. I highly doubted that I would ever see her again, but I had to at least give her hope…

"I am your Angel of Music…I will always be here…and I will always be with you…"

It was as close to the truth without really telling it. And, she seemed satisfied.

"Can you please take me home now…?" she questioned me.

I nodded my head and made my way towards the window.

Once we were outside, I took a deep breath of the fresh air, it was so new…so clean!

With Christine's help, we soon found ourselves outside of her house. The whole trip there had been silent and I began to wonder if Christine was alright.

_She is just tired…_

I tried to calm my nerves with this, but it was not working well.

Soon, we were right outside her front door and I reluctantly set her down. Inwardly, I wondered if her guardian would be inside, or if they had left to go in search of her. I knew that it was immensely late. I silently hoped that there was someone who loved Christine inside, waiting for her.

Once Christine's feet were on the ground, she turned and embraced me, her thin arms going around my waist. I held her close.

She gestured for me to kneel down to her height, and I did so. Before I knew what had happened…she had kissed _both_ of my cheeks. She then took a step back.

"I love you, Erik…" she whispered.

Finally recovering, I stood and smiled.

"I love you too, Christine," said I, not believing what was happening.

"See you soon," she said before turning and knocking on the door.

I quickly melted into the haven of the shadows, wanting to make sure that she got inside safely.

For almost a minute, Christine stood outside until finally the door opened and I heard weeping coming from the inside.

"Ohh Christine! I heard the news of a child being kidnapped by a monster! I was so worried. They would only allow me to help look for a certain time…I'm so sorry I did not find you…." The voice faded as Christine walked inside and the guardian closed the door.

I was satisfied; Christine had someone to watch over her that truly cared. She was safe.

As for I?

The Devil's Child was murdered that night at the circus. Below the Paris Opera house, Erik: _The Angel of Music_ was born.

**And there you have it! A new chapter. Finally we can move on to where they are older. I am so excited! I can't wait to get started…anyways. When Christine and Erik exchanged the whole 'I love you' thing, they of course did not mean it romantically. No. That would be quite disturbing. It was a friend speaking to another friend. Okay. Well, I cannot say for sure when my next update will be, but I know that the wait will not be as long as my previous updates…Please review!!! They make me happy! (:**

**Happy Holidays everyone!**


	10. Erik Remembers, Christine Forgets

**I'm sorry for the long wait. I'm not going to make any excuses. I'm just going to say that finals kill. And I haven't been keeping my focus on this story as much. But, I LOVE this chapter. It may seem a little confusing at times, but that is because there is so much going on at once. More things will be explained in other chapters as the story progresses…in the mean time…enjoy!**

_Seven years later..._

IT STRIKES AGAIN!

_For nearly three years there have been strange happenings at the _Opera Garnier_. Set pieces mysteriously disappearing, stage hands missing, threatening letters from no one (requested by the managers, the contents shall remain classified), and even a voice that apparently orders the performers, managers, and set crew about. _

_Most recently, there has been a disaster that happened at last night's performance of_ Faust_. In the middle of La Carlotta Guidicelli's_ _(the leading soprano for two seasons) solo, the back drop tumbled down, nearly crushing the Prima Donna and not to mention damage to the stage that will cost a ghastly amount of francs for repairs._

"_We are doing everything we can to figure this whole strange affair out…" says manager, Firmin Richard, "We have received letters from this character who calls himself O.G. and his demands and expectations are ridiculously high, however when ignored, terrible things occur…" _

_"We assure that we will get to the bottom of this case eventually and have this madman flushed out…" includes other manager, Armand_ _Moncharmin. _

_Police are trying to find this mysterious figure as well, but can we ask them…How can they find someone…or something when one does not even know its face?_

"Please do not tell me you are reading _that_ garbage…" Meg's bored and at the same time amused voice said suddenly behind me.

Laughing quietly, I turned around to face her, folding the newspaper up.

"Well, it is interesting garbage…That dreadful Carlotta got what was coming to her. I just wish I could have been at the performance to see it…"

Meg just shook her head at me.

"It is not kind to think such wicked thoughts, Christine. You just feel this way because she was chosen as the leading soprano before you were even able to audition for it…" she said matter-of-factly.

I tried to brush off what Meg just said with a roll of my eyes, but I realized that she was, in fact, right in a way. I had indeed wanted to audition and become the leading soprano, but that awful woman destroyed my dreams before I was even really old enough to start chasing after them.

Well, it wasn't exactly like I could even audition, after that disaster back when I was young, I can hardly remember for it all seems so long ago and is just a blur; Antoinette insisted that we move to the further outskirts of Paris where it was less likely for danger to happen.

For I while, I had been planning to leave and move back to Paris. I was seventeen, almost a woman, I believed that I should be old enough to make my own decisions, but there was one thing I did not count on:

Antoinette's health.

Although she was generally young, she still had fallen ill under some strange circumstances. Meg and I were taking care of her daily, riding into Paris to fetch medicines, which was how I managed to get a hold of the newspaper that Meg was mocking me about. It was strange how the tables turned on Antoinette and me. I still can remember vaguely me as a child beside my dying father and her going out so many times to receive the medications he needed. It was all in vain, though. My father had died.

I remember having horrible nightmares, but those stopped years ago…perhaps back when I was eleven.

Meg was still moving about the room, cleaning things up, I decided to engage in at least a little bit of conversation with her.

"How is she?"

"The same she was since we last left her. She insists that she is doing just fine and wants us to get out of the house for a little bit. I would oblige, but she's my mother. I can't just leave her…" she said, looking pitiful.

I laughed and shook my head. It was funny, Meg hinting that she wanted me to watch over Antoinette while she went out and had a little fun. I honestly had no problem with it. I told Meg this and she thanked me, smiling happily before grabbing her light blue cloak, for the cold winter day, and leaving the house in higher spirits.

With a sigh, I went back to reading the article on this so-called 'Opera Ghost'. It was rather peculiar, but I hardly cared. If those idiots chose to ignore this_ thing's _demands, then they deserved what was being cast upon them.

_Thing?_

I had just called the Opera Ghost a thing…Was it a thing? Or perhaps a man? A woman? There were no such things as ghosts. So, it had to just be a man…misunderstood by society. But, why? What would cause someone to want to just hide and only be known of as a shadow, or a ghost…or even a thing?

I sighed, knowing that my thoughts were cruel, but finding that I did not care. I had stopped caring about a lot of things long ago. Proof of why I chose this reasoning was the small, barely noticeable scar on my left temple. I cannot remember where I received it, only small things. For example when I sleep, sometimes I have dreams about screaming and yelling, as well as being in a tent. And a voice…a beautiful, unearthly, haunting voice…the voice of an Angel…That voice was what caused me to know that I was missing something in my memory. I knew the reason for this was that scar, I had been hit on the head, causing me to loose some of my memory. Not everything, just a small portion. I can remember my sick father, that he died while falling out of the bed on top of me…I gave shudder…I remember putting a stop to some injustice that was happening to an ugly man in a cage. Ugly man. He had a name. He was more than that. I knew that man. He played a huge part in my life when I was a child…but my memory would not allow me to remember who he was, or even what he looked like…I only remembered that he was ugly…I thought about him the most when I was singing. I knew that he was somehow involved in how my voice sounded…

I also remember Raoul as child coming to visit a few days before my father died.

_Raoul._

Such a good man. My best friend, my comfort, my only real last memory of my father.

I smiled; a blush stained my cheeks, as I remembered that

_it had been raining so hard; I thought I must have looked like a drowned rat, trying to get back home with Antoinette's medications. All of the carriages were full because of the weather and people trying to get where they wanted to be warm and dry. I was one of the unfortunate ones. As I ran, I decided that it was most likely the best idea to just find shelter and stay there until the weather calmed down. It was too long a walk to my home from Paris…at least a four hour walk. I decided to just remain where I was. _

_Just then, a very nice carriage pulled up in front of me. Because of the symbol as well as the quality of the carriage, I knew who it was before the figure even emerged._

"_Christine? Is that you?" Raoul asked, gesturing for me to come into the shelter of the carriage so that we could leave before we held up traffic._

_Not wanting Raoul to see me like this, but not wanting to pass up a chance to get home quickly, I headed towards him. _

_After giving the driver instructions on where to go, he turned to face me._

"_Oh Christine, look at you…" He chuckled, shutting the carriage door behind me and pulling me into his arms, uncaring of my sopping wet form._

_At first, I had wanted to hit him for making fun of me, but then I realized that he was just trying to make my embarrassing situation a little lighter._

"_Where were you going…what are you doing out in this weather?" Raoul asked._

"_I needed medication for Antoinette, she is sick…there were no more carriages…" I said, answering his questions._

"_Surely you have your own carriage?"  
_

_I shook my head._

"_No, he was fired…" _

"Why?" 

"_Because he got us lost numerous times…" _

"I see..." 

_I nodded my head, happy to be with Raoul; despite my appearance…I had learned long ago from two people that appearances did not matter. Maman…and who? Wasn't it that ugly man who kept coming into my thoughts? My dreams? It must have been. Oh why didn't I remember his name? It seemed as if my heart knew it, but my memory did not. I did not like that. It was unsettling._

"_Thank you so much, Raoul…I really appreciate your generosity," said I._

_Raoul smiled and put his hands on my shoulders._

"_It is no trouble at all, Christine…I'm always here for you," he said, lifting my chin to look at him, for by now my eyes had been downcast._

_When our eyes met, for a moment I thought that I saw something more than just friendship in Raoul's eyes. Shocked, was I, when I saw him starting to lean in…intending to kiss me. But, even more so was I shocked when I realized I was letting him. It was taking so long for it to sink in…Raoul was about to kiss me…and I wanted him to…_

_Closer…Closer…_

_I could feel his warm breath tickling the skin on my face. I closed my eyes, eagerly waiting for what was to come. I noticed how his breath smelt of peppermint and I longed to taste that flavor, for in my seventeen years of living, never once had I been kissed on the lips. Curiosity burned within me, as did something else I did not recognize…_

_Closer…Closer…_

_I could feel his lips slightly fan mine…_

_The carriage gave a sudden lurch, causing us both to loose our balance and cling to each other. I blushed and looked away when I realized he had his arms around my waist while mine had found their way around his neck…a lovers' embrace…_

_I pulled away and sat down, him sitting across from me._

_We rode in silence for a while, the awkward silence weighing down on us, crushing us like some unreal weight that was strangely heavy even though it wasn't there…It was suffocating me and I know it was doing the same to him. I started to grow worried that something had happened between us that would cause us to be shut off from one another… until finally Raoul cleared his throat and began to talk._

"_It's been awhile Christine since I've seen you…about two months hasn't it?"_

_I looked over at him and smiled; admiring how he could dismiss our rather…awkward situation as if it were nothing…I should have known he would do that. Raoul was too good a person to let this whole ordeal ruin what we've had for so many years._

"_Yes. It has been a while. I've missed seeing you and spending time with you. We've always had so much fun," I answered, making a mental note to just forget what nearly transpired between us. But…how could I forget what I was feeling at that time…? I could not even describe what emotions passed through me…_

"_We certainly have, Christine. I can remember having the most wonderful times with you over anyone else…" Raoul agreed, smiling again, showing me his white teeth that were perfectly straight._

_The rest of our trip had moved along with us laughing and talking of old times. Soon, we were right outside my home…too soon…  
_

_It was still slightly drizzling…I didn't mind getting a little bit wetter…_

_Raoul helped me out of the carriage and I turned to thank him for his kindness, but was caught off guard when suddenly I was met with the warm pleasure of his soft, but firm lips. I froze for a moment, but hesitantly placed my hands on his shoulders as one of his went to the back of my head while the other went on my cheek. _

_Our lips moved against each other in a slow rhythm and I suddenly made a noise in the midst of our kiss. Raoul, being the ever caring, ever loving man, pulled away and looked at me concerned for a moment, but realized I was just fine. _

"_Goodbye, Christine," he whispered softly to me, running a hand through my hair._

_I merely smiled, unable to will myself to do anything else. I nearly swooned._

_My first kiss! It was my first kiss!_

_With one last look, he turned and left me._

_Running into the house, soaking wet and grinning ridiculously, I went to sit at the table, of which where_

I sat now, smiling at that memory. That was the last time I had seen Raoul.

Part of me was concerned.

Raoul and I had always been such good friends; I hoped that one kiss would not become a scar in our friendship, if anything it could be the tourniquet that covers the wound my father left on both of us when he died.

Whatever it was, I still had yet to find out what fate had in store for us.

"Christine, my dear, will you come here for a minute?" Antoinette's surprisingly strong voice called from the bed room.

Standing up from the table, I made my way from the kitchen into the bedroom.

"Yes?" I asked as I sat down at the foot of my guardian's bed.

She looked surprisingly well. The color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes looked more alive.

"You really need to get outside, child. I really am fine, I promise."

Her words sent that stomach quivering sense of déjà vu into my system. I could recall the time when my papa had been sick in bed and Antoinette had told me to get some fresh air. Only, now another guardian's life was being threatened and when if I lost her, I would have no one…

"_I am your Angel of Music…I will always be here…and I will always be with you…"_

That voice in my head nearly caused me to loose my seating. I knew that it came from my head, but the way it was said, it gave me the impression that the owner of the voice was right in the room next to me. Perhaps I had a guardian after all…But, that was ridiculous. As Meg always said, I needed to get my head out of the clouds and be more practical. It seemed as if there was still part of me that never wanted to let go of the fairy tale about the Angel of Music that my papa and maman used to tell me. There may have been a short time in my life where I believed I had found the Angel, but that died along with my father.

"Antoinette, I really am quite comfortable being here with you."

"Christine, do not give me that. I can sense your restlessness as well as your dutiful wanting to stay with me, but your restlessness is stronger," Antoinette said back to me, her tone strict, but still tender in its own strange way.

"I get outside plenty, you know that well," I protested.

"Indeed, out to get my medicine and then you come right back again…"

I sighed, knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I would not win an argument with her. Never in my lifetime….

She continued to insist.

"Just for a few hours, dear. I will be just fine, I'm not _that_ old. I can manage on my own…" Without the exceptions of a few more lines on her face, she was indeed quite right.

I shook my head, wanting to resist her urges and my inward urges to go out into the fresh air. For, it was indeed nice outside for a winter's day and God only knew how many nice days we had left before bitter cold of winter's core consumed it all.

With Antoinette's piercing stare, I had no choice but to succumb to her wishes and my inwards wishes which I usually kept buried deep down in my heart.

"Alright, but only for a little while," I said, almost wincing when I realized I had said almost those exact words a little over seven years prior.

"That's my dear," she said, dismissing me with a little wave of her hand.

I went up to her and kissed her forehead.

"Please get well soon," I whispered in her ear, "I'll be back soon…"

With that, I closed the door.

* * *

The carriage came to a stop and I stepped out onto the frozen cobble stoned streets of Paris. Snow had begun to fall in little flurries lying softly in my curls and on my shoulders covered by my dark emerald green cloak. Once I was out of the middle of the road, I tilted my head back and breathed in the cool winter air and when I exhaled, my breath came out in a mass of steam. 

Although it was cold, it was still the most wonderful sensation ever to be out in the open air after being caged up inside for so long.

I walked along, admiring the dresses and little trinkets that were in the shop windows.

I passed by Antoinette's bakery and my heart filled with sadness. For a moment, I realized how many memories Paris held, as well as how much I missed it. I continued walking on, curious to see one thing and one thing alone…

_**Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik-Erik**_

"_I watched the clouds drifting away  
Still the sun can't warm my face"_

My fingers, resembling that of white spiders, crawled across the notes of my powerful organ, caressing the keys rather than playing them. The music was one with me, as I was with it. Together, with our passion, with my voice and its melody combined, we created a song of such sorrow, such mourning, such loss that no one would ever be able to fathom such an empty feeling within their hearts.

For so many years I had known such a feeling. From the time I broke out of that circus, to leaving for Persia where I was welcomed with nothing but deceit as well as death if I had not escaped and returned to Paris with nothing else gained except for a new skill at lassoing, as well as enough money to be reunited with music again. Had I not had that, the amazing organ of which I sat at would not be there.

Yes, I had seen the sunset oranges of Persia, witnessed the lies of the Shah. Nearly killed by his 'detective' of sorts, Nadir Khan. It was because of his sudden 'change of heart' that I was able to escape unscathed and sail back to Paris with Nadir always close by to keep on 'eye' on me. The thing I know most about the man is that he deals in naught but lies and is the very definition of things are not always what they seem. I knew him a great deal of the time and if it weren't for the unfortunate fact that he nearly killed me a few times, I would consider him a friend, for no one else knew me as well as he did and I the same to him. But, no…I only ever had one true friend and I haven't seen her in almost eight years. I met her when I was twenty-one. She and I departed when I was twenty-three. I was now thirty, almost thirty-one. She had been so young, so lost. My Christine…Oh my dear little Christine. A day never went by where I did not think about her. She would be almost eighteen now, a woman.

My heart seemed to skip a beat. How I wish I could have watched her grow! See what she looked like as a woman. The thought of Christine as a woman could not sink in, for I had never known her as anything more than a child. What would she look like? Were her eyes still as blue? Her hair just a brown, soft, and curly? Her skin just as pale as ivory? Was she still in Paris? Was...she still alive? I closed my eyes for a moment. Of course she still was! Just because people die everyday does not mean that she was one of them at such a young age.

I had been here in Paris under the Opera House for almost three years, earning the name 'Opera Ghost' because of my 'haunting' activities, and not once had I heard anything of the dear little Swedish girl whose voice was as pure as an Angel's… as was her soul…

My fingers struck a very sad and melancholy cord on the organ at the mere thought of my brief happiness in the form of an innocent child that saved me from my eternal darkness. I had given up hope of ever seeing her again, but I found that the more I thought about her, the more I wanted to actually see if she was still here...or still alive.

Suddenly, a haunting melody reached my mind and I began to play a vaguely familiar tune on my organ, the words automatically coming to me…

"_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye…"_

I remembered that song well. That was the song that Christine and I had worked on for so long until that bastard Buquet destroyed us both.

My playing stopped all together at the mere thought of that disgusting man. I had almost forgotten about him. His face then came into clear focus in my mind's eye. Oh how I hated that man! I was going to kill him after what he did to Christine, kicking her head so hard, it bled. I wondered if the child really was here in Paris, but had taken such a heavy blow to the head that it had caused her to loose part of her memory. Did she even remember me at all? Did she remember her poor, unhappy Erik?

_**Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christine-Christin-Christine-Christine-Christin-Christine**_

As I walked along the streets, I suddenly began to feel this strange, isolated feeling from everyone else…It was as if I did not belong with them…as if I were an outcast. But, that was just my paranoia. I realized I had hardly any friends and I was not interested in what most people my age were interested in nowadays. People would stare at me oddly for a moment and then go on their way, not even bothering to talk to me.

"Must you glare at me old man? Off with you!!"

The angry yells of a youth to an elder pierced through the clockwork hustle and bustle of Paris and I found myself looking in the direction of a young man towering over a much older man…one that looked as if he had no home. An outcast…like me…I had a home, but I had no real family. Antoinette was wonderful, but she was never my true mother. Nor had I ever known a father's love. In my years without one, I had forgotten what it felt like to have a father's protective arms pull you close and hide you away from the evils of the world. The old man across the street was proof of someone who never got the rightful amount of love in their life.

For one fleeting moment, we locked eyes and I sensed a mutual understanding between us. He knew that I accepted him for who he was and he accepted me as the outcast of Paris. I guess Meg was right…I was a strange girl, to be feeling such ways towards someone I didn't even know.

With a small, physical shake of my head, I was on my way, trying to forget the exchange between that old man and I. There was someone else out there who understood things the way I did…who was an outcast like me…but, in a worse way. So much less lucky than I.

Not only was he just different inside…but outside as well. That face…that deformity…What was his name!? Unknowingly, I had put my hand up to my temple where that small scar was. It was because of that scar I could not remember…I knew it.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I realized I had reached my destination. I had stopped right at the entrance of Opera Garnier. I knew it was closed for the time being because of the whole 'Opera Ghost' madness, but for some reason, I knew another way in.

Soon, I found myself on the other side of the large building where a small stain glass window was. With a flick and a pull, I had managed to get it opened enough so that I was able to slip in.

I gasped as I looked around the chapel beneath the Opera House.

This place! I knew it!

I had seen it before, whether in a dream or in reality.

I don't know how, but for some reason the song 'Ave Maria' played in the back of my mind as I looked at the stained glass window of an Angel.

After a moment longer, I left the chapel and made my way down a stone hallway that lead into a larger, grander hallway. Eventually, after a few more turns I found the place I had been looking for...The stage…The room was completely dark except for a few candles that had been left alight by a few stagehands that had forgotten to blow them out when they were finished with the room. It was enough light to see where I was going.

The room was magnificent! It was so huge, so grand. Just being in such an extravagant room caused gooseflesh to rise on my white skin.

Without knowing how, I wound up on the stage, staring out at the seats and boxes as well as the beautifully sculpted statues. I tilted my head up to see a huge, gorgeous chandelier high above. The site of it caused something fearful to stir within me…as if that chandelier could fall on me and end my life in just an instant, but I knew I was just being foolish.

Once again, I focused my attention onto the audience. Closing my eyes, I could picture them all there, waiting to hear me sing...Raoul in the front row, watching me with those sparkling eyes of his.

With no control, I opened my mouth and took a breath, beginning to sing.

"_God help the outcasts, the tattered, the torn.  
Seeking an answer to why they were born."  
_

As if by my magic…my voice seemed to open up even more, releasing all of my emotions, allowing me to soar above the stage, out of the Opera House and into the sky where I could fly forever, floating on the breeze. The feeling was intoxicating, and yet I loved it…I wanted more…_  
_

"_Winds of misfortune have blown them about.  
You made the outcasts don't cast them out."  
_

I suddenly sensed a presence…I was no longer alone. Yet, I wasn't afraid, I felt—Strangely complete in a sense. This caused me to sing even more passionately and really open my heart up to what I was singing.

"_I ask for nothing, I can get by.  
But I know so many less lucky than I."_

I felt a cold air caress the back of my neck I turned my head slightly to discover that there was no one there and yet…there was…somewhere, but I continued singing nonetheless…

"_God help the outcasts, the poor and down trod.  
I thought we all were the children of God."  
_

The song…the presence…the stage, all was just so overwhelming, I soon dropped to my knees, my eyes filling with tears, but I had to finish the song.

"_The poor and unlucky, the weak and the odd.  
I thought we all were the children of God."_

I dropped my head for a moment, just letting the feeling of it all sink in. The air around me turned colder and I wrapped my green cloak tighter around myself.

I nearly jumped out of my flesh when I suddenly heard a voice seem to fill up the entire room, it was impossible to discover where it was coming from…a voice that was so familiar…so beautiful…It sounded like an Angel…

"_Bravi, bravi, bravissimi..."_

**And, now you will have to wait and see what happens in the next chapter. **

**Sorry to all you anti-RC people. But, don't despair, this phanphic is EC, and EC it will be…eventually…Also, Nadir will be making an appearance soon before too long, after all he is sort of 'tracking' Erik in a way. I mean, after his four years spent in Persia, (Which will be revealed more later on in the story) I guess he got a little "attached" to the fellow…you know…in the killing sort of way…Anyways…**

**MORE COMING UP SOON.**

_**-Il Fantasma**_


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